


the shadows that linger

by Flavy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Eddie is one jealous clueless bitch, Eventual Smut, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, High School, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Period-Typical Homophobia, Richie is of course perfect, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29508645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavy/pseuds/Flavy
Summary: Re-posting, now completed. Sincere apologies to all those that took the time to kudo/comment on the original post.~“Fuck yeah, Vitamin C! Eds, did you hear that? You wouldn’t say no to free drugs, right?”“Vitamins are not drugs, dickwad.”“Then what are those huge pills you keep swallowing?”Eddie flipped him off. “You’re a huge pill. And forget it, I’ve got better things to do.”“Oh, really? I’m dying to hear what ‘better things’ you’ve got to do, Edward. No, no, wait—let me guess.” Richie tapped his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “It’s laundry, isn’t it.”“At least I do laundry,Richard.”~Eddie's POV. Following a very unexpected kiss in his final year of high school, Eddie's life slowly begins to break down and spiral out of control, taking him on a wild rollercoaster of emotion.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teenagedirtbaq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagedirtbaq/gifts).



> To the one that brings out the beauty in my world. So happy to have you in my life, babe.

Eddie’s first hospital visit that year happened on Valentine’s Day. 

Richie had somehow managed to sneak out a bottle of red wine from his father’s locked cabinet and brought it up to Eddie’s room, taking his usual route in by climbing up the back wall after dark and using his bedroom window as an entrance. After years of having to hide his friends from his mother, Eddie was used to that. Over the course of his life, he’d learned the hard way that going along with things was easier than resisting them. And that’s what he did. He took things in stride because it was easier that way.

So when Richie came up with his bottle of wine on the eve of Valentine’s Day, Eddie didn’t say much of anything apart from refusing to touch a drop of it. 

Richie still put in a good effort to get him to, of course, claiming he felt like celebrating the breakthrough in his detention record and, Eddie suspected, because he was really curious to see him get drunk (presumably so he could tease him about it to death the following day), but he hadn’t managed to convince him. Eddie had seen the effects of alcohol poisoning first-hand when Richie dragged him out to a concert festival the previous summer, and he wasn’t at all eager to join the ‘pre-AA club’, as Richie liked to call it. 

Eddie knew that Richie himself had never had alcohol before, so when Richie started acting weirder than usual after the first couple of mouthfuls and pretty spacy by the time the bottle was a quarter gone, Eddie wasn’t shocked out of his mind. 

What did come as a shock… was when Richie kissed him.

It happened just like that, without any warning whatsoever. One minute they were perched together on Eddie’s bed laughing about something and the next Richie was pulling him in to press his lips against him, as though it was something they did every day. 

Eddie had reacted out of pure instinct when he jumped out of bed like cattle being branded with a hot iron. And to say he jumped was an exaggeration, really—it was more of a clumsy stumble that propelled him into the corner of his desk before landing him in a messy heap on the floor. 

The course of events afterwards was a bit of a blur for him. 

Some things he recalled quite well. He recalled the stabbing pain in his temple and the panic that rose at seeing blood dripping down to the floor. He recalled hearing his mother’s heavy footsteps rushing urgently down the hallway. He recalled the overwhelming relief at seeing Richie disappear out the window just before she came in, avoiding discovery. He remembered being in his mother’s car on the way to the hospital. 

And then there were things he couldn’t recall at all. Things like… Richie’s reaction to it all—his words, if he said any, his face. Eddie could only imagine it was something akin to the face one might make when their prank had gone terribly wrong.

He ended up having five stitches put in and sent back home in the wee hours of the morning with instructions to watch out for symptoms of a concussion. His mother fussed over him the entire time, lecturing him on the importance of turning on the bed lamp before he got up to use the bathroom at night. 

The following morning, Richie had been awkwardly apologetic about getting drunk out of his mind, claiming he didn’t remember much of anything after he’d started drinking. He never mentioned anything about kissing him, and Eddie didn’t offer up the truth.

It was just easier that way. If anything, Richie’s memory lapse was a relief.

If Richie didn’t remember, Eddie didn’t have to… talk about it. Didn’t have to pretend to be angry, didn’t have to argue about it or curse him out for it. 

The reality of the fact was—Eddie didn’t know how to feel about it. He preferred to dismiss it all as a bad joke and forget it ever happened. He didn’t feel the need to clarify ‘why’ Richie did what he did, because there could only be one explanation for it, really. Richie was just stupid that way. 

So Eddie was perfectly happy to bury the truth and act like nothing happened, let Richie continue his routine visits to his bedroom and pretend that they didn’t, once upon a time, sit on his bed and press their lips together, however briefly. 

After all, Richie was still the same Richie he’d always been. Nothing had changed between them.

And that was good enough for Eddie.

~

A few weeks before midterms, Eddie was enjoying his lunch period at a picnic table in the school courtyard, as it was unseasonably warm for March and he wanted to spend time outdoors after a long and dreary winter. 

Richie and Beverly were sitting against the trunk of a large oak tree nearby, leaning into each other as they read over the pages of the same textbook while Eddie was still working through his lunch—rather unenthusiastically. His roast beef sandwich was alright, he just wasn’t all that hungry. He sipped at his milk carton more than anything while glancing around the yard, where small clusters of students hung out, their chatter boisterous and lively.

The rest of their group was missing that day. Eddie knew that Bill had a writing project he was finishing up and Bev had supplied that Ben was busy with some schoolwork, too, so it was just the three of them for once. Eddie could only guess that Stan was probably hanging out with Bill, opting for the quieter version of the lunch period. It was his loss. The sun was warm, the breeze was pleasant, and the air was fresh with the bloom of nature, inspiring him with the rare feeling that being there, in the present moment, was good enough. 

That he wasn’t… missing something. 

He thought of nothing, simply enjoying the company of his friends.

It had gotten so abnormally quiet for a while, he was almost startled when Bev made a frustrated noise in her throat and shut the textbook closed, slumping against Richie in resignation. 

“I’m positively done with Physics for life,” she groaned miserably, her flowery low-cut dress standing out in contrast against Richie’s plain blue hoodie. It was the first Eddie had seen her out of a sweater that year. “If God was kind, he’d never have invented such a torturous subject.”

“It’s not all that bad,” Richie said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “You just have to memorize the formulas and shit, then apply them to problems. Not all that different from Math, really.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bev sighed. “You never seem to study, yet you get such good grades. How do you do it?”

Richie shrugged, a playful smirk on his lips. “Perks of a brilliant mind, I guess,” he said before leaning into her slightly to add, voice lowered conspiratorially, “Good stress relief, too. That’s the real secret.”

Bev scrunched up her nose. “Please tell me you’re not talking about—”

“Oh yes, he is,” Eddie confirmed because he’d heard it all before. “I wouldn’t even bother asking him, honestly. You want good grades? You’ve got to study. A lot.”

“Spoken like a true Boy Scout,” Richie said, saluting him. “One in dire need of some stress relief, might I add.”

“Just shut up—that will be stress relief enough.”

Richie pretended to pull a zipper over his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Pretty sure my way is better,” he said after a moment without moving them. 

Eddie shook his head, taking a small bite out of his sandwich. Typical Richie. Even with his mouth shut, he could still talk trash. He should get himself a wooden dummy and become a ventriloquist.

Beverly giggled. “I do study, you know,” she said, addressing Eddie. “I’m just having trouble understanding some of these concepts,”—she patted the book that was now sitting on top of Richie’s lap. “Guess I’m not as ‘brilliant’ as some of us.”

“You could ask Ben for help,” Eddie suggested. “He’s pretty good at Physics, I think.”

“His class is ahead, though,” Beverly said with a little sigh. “Besides, he needs really good grades to get into university, so I don’t—well, he’s pretty busy nowadays.”

Eddie was about to suggest asking Bill, who’d been good enough to help him with schoolwork on a number of occasions, when Richie cut in. “I’ll explain it to you, if you want,” he said like it was something he offered every day. “We could study together.”

Eddie would have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d just bit into his sandwich again. He ended up making a few muffled snorts instead, earning a raised eyebrow from Richie. 

Bev was peering at Richie in similar disbelief. “For real?”

“Sure, why not,” Richie said with a shrug. “Despite what Chuckles here would have you believe, I’m actually an amazing study buddy.” Smirking, he squeezed around her shoulders to bring her in a little closer. “Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be reciting the principles of thermodynamics in your sleep.”

“Richie!” Bev said, elbowing him hard enough in the ribs to elicit a dull groan out of him.

“Believe me, that’s all the educational value you’re going to see from him,” Eddie said once he’d finished chewing. “You’re better off on your own.”

“You can’t do _everything_ on your own, Eds.”

“According to you. I say it can.”

Richie snorted. “Said the Virgin Mary.”

Eddie shot him a nasty look, itching to say something similarly unpleasant because—fuck, did Richie have to keep bringing that shit up? 

“Maybe you’re wrong about Eddie,” Bev said, although the tease in her tone indicated that she wasn’t really disputing it at all. “How can you be sure?”

Richie’s grin didn’t falter. “Call it a gift.” 

“What if he’s got a hidden girlfriend on the side?”

“Bev… even if Eddie had a hundred girlfriends on the side, he’d still be a virgin.”

Eddie made a show of exhaling with dismay, distinctly uncomfortable. “Why is my private life a topic of conversation right now?” 

“What private life?” Richie asked, looking far too amused. “The only girl you’ve ever gone out with is sitting right here.”

“I could say the same about you,” Eddie said pointedly because despite Richie’s incessant flirting and bragging about the extent of his alleged sex life, Eddie was fairly certain that he’d never been with anyone either. 

“Pardon me, but I do have a girlfriend. She’s a few girlfriends in one, really, but she can take the whole nine yards, if you know what I mean.”

Eddie shook his head. “Fuck you, asshole.”

Beverly bit her lip, trying to keep the amusement out of her face. “Um... so how should we do this, Richie? Test’s on Friday, right?” At Richie’s acknowledging grunt, she continued, “How about you come over after school? My dad’s usually at work until late.”

“I have to drop by the mall today, pick up some stuff. Is tomorrow okay?”

“Sure. Any day, really.”

Richie glanced at Eddie. “I’ll just have to… hmm.”

Eddie shrugged at him, guessing what he was thinking. “It’s fine, I can walk.”

Beverly looked confused for a moment before something seemed to click into place. “Oh, right, I forgot you drive Eddie home. We could drop him off first, then head over to my place?”

“Unless he wants to join us,” Richie said, looking at Eddie hopefully. He stretched his long legs out on the grass with a wince, as though they had fallen asleep on him. He was wearing ripped jeans again. Eddie would never understand this fashion choice. 

“I’m not taking Physics.”

“Come on, Eds. I promise I won’t annoy you too much.”

“Great. Could you start right now?”

“If this is about Math the other day…”

Beverly squinted at Richie curiously. “Math? Why, what’d you do?”

“Nothing, really—it was the caffeine, okay? Or the sugar. Or both,” Richie mumbled. At least he had the decency to sound sorry. “It’s not my fault I got crazy thirsty before class.” 

“Thirsty?” Eddie said in disbelief. “You should have had water, then. Not three Cokes.”

“Three Cokes?” Beverly balked at Richie. “How did you not have a heart attack?”

Eddie remembered thinking the exact same thing as he tried to stop him by reasoning with him. Unfortunately, Richie rarely ever listened to reason, especially when it came to his health. “He almost gave the teacher one instead. Think Bugs Bunny on steroids… he couldn’t shut up. Stiles was fucking pissed.”

“Hey, I thought I was the Road Runner,” Richie interjected, making a duck face. He turned to Beverly, who giggled at the expression on his face. “Beep, beep.”

Eddie shook his head. “Richie… you’re the whole fucking Looney Tunes.”

Richie snickered. “Best Math class ever, though, right Eds? It was worth just to hear Stiles say ‘fuck’. Bev, ever heard that high pitch he gets when he’s really pissed? Like…” Richie screwed up his face into an irate expression, shaking his fist in the air and sweeping his bangs back to appear bald. “Shut the fuck up, you little shit!” he mimicked in a high screech before bursting into laughter. “It was fucking hilarious.”

Bev was all dimples. “You must have really pissed him off, I’ve never heard him swear before… he’s always so proper.”

“Try ‘stiff’,” Richie corrected in-between guffaws. “The guy can’t take a joke.”

“It was a study period, Richie,” Eddie pointed out, feeling annoyed rather than amused. “The rest of us were trying to study for the test. If I fail, by the way—it’s your fault.”

Bev blinked. “Wait… you guys have a test, too? When?”

“Tomorrow, first period,” Eddie supplied, then quickly added as Richie opened his mouth, “And no. I don’t need help studying.”

At Richie’s disappointed grunt, Beverly patted his leg. “I still do. And no caffeine when you come over. Since you’re helping me, I’ll squeeze you some orange juice.”

“Fuck yeah, Vitamin C! Eds, did you hear that? You wouldn’t say no to free drugs, right?”

“Vitamins are not drugs, dickwad.”

“Then what are those huge pills you keep swallowing?”

Eddie flipped him off. “You’re a huge pill. And forget it, I’ve got better things to do.” 

“Oh, really? I’m dying to hear what ‘better things’ you’ve got to do, Edward. No, no, wait—let me guess.” Richie tapped his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “It’s laundry, isn’t it.”

“At least I do laundry, _Richard_.”

“Richie, stop it,” Beverly urged, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s just keep it simple. You, me, study date tomorrow. Okay? If Eddie doesn’t want to come, it’s his choice.”

Richie shot Eddie a pleading glance. “Eds…”

“No.”

“At least let me drop you off.”

“No.”

With a resigned sigh, Richie got up and brushed himself off, his dark curls stirring in the breeze. “You’re like a fucking urchin sometimes, you know that? All spikes, no fun. Where you going?” 

Eddie made a move to check his wrist watch while packing up his stuff. “It’s only a few minutes till the bell rings. I gotta go.” He rolled up his lunch leftovers in a napkin to toss into the trash bin. 

“Oh, uh…” Richie started then hesitated, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Come to the mall with me later?”

Richie knew all too well that Eddie didn’t like the mall, so why was he even asking? Eddie had never been particularly fond of stuffy, overcrowded, closed spaces that probably never saw a mop in their life. The only time he tolerated the mall was when he went to see a movie with Richie. “I don’t think so.” 

Richie’s face fell. “Eds, come on, I need you.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know—company, I guess,” Richie said. “I feel stupid walking around by myself. Plus I need a second opinion on the stuff I’m going to get.”

“So ask Bev,” Eddie said, gesturing towards her. “She’s a girl, she’ll know better than me.”

“Oh, Bev’s uh… she’s too busy to go today,” Richie said quickly, his eyes shifting to Beverly. “Right, Bev?”

“Um, sure?” she drawled, looking a little lost until her eyes met Richie’s. “Oh, right, very busy. Studying for the test and stuff. You should go, Eddie.” She nodded at him in encouragement.

Richie’s lips quirked. “See? Come on, please? I’m asking nicely for once.” He placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and shook a little. “Please.”

“We’ve got a test to study for, remember? Because of you, I haven’t even touched those chapters yet.”

“I won’t be long. Promise.” Richie stuck out his small finger. “In and out. Pinky promise.”

Eddie sighed painstakingly, looking into Richie’s doe eyes and finding himself actually considering it. The last time he was at the mall was around Christmas time—he remembered it well because his mother had guilt-tripped him into going gift-shopping with her, and then took nearly all day to pick out two stupid gifts that weren’t even for him. Eddie had to use their bathroom facilities for a total of two times during that period, and that was an experience he never cared to repeat. 

Faced with Richie’s pleading look, however… 

With the contacts, Richie’s eyes looked different. Brighter, clearer, softer somehow. Eddie had always thought it was a good change for him from the Coke-bottle glasses, but he’d sooner drop dead before he’d admit to any such thing.

“Fine,” he finally said with a pained sigh. It was almost worth agreeing to it just to see the spark light up in Richie’s eyes. As an afterthought, he added, “But you take forever, I’m leaving. And I better not have to use their bathrooms.”


	2. Chapter 2

The mall ended up being fairly busy despite it being the middle of the day on a weekday. Given that it was close to the school and had a movie theater and a food court, it wasn’t a big surprise that most of the mall was filled with teens, some of which Eddie recognized from school. 

The minute he stepped foot in it, he braced himself for a painful experience of walking about in what was essentially a giant garbage bin. 

The thick grime along the edges of the aged flooring, the sticky-looking splatters, the overflowing trashcans, the piles of junk food containers left behind on benches, the giant sculptures peppering the hallways with layers upon layers of dust on them. It was unbelievable. And that wasn’t even touching the bathroom situation. 

He could almost smell the mold in the rusty, stale air. It made his lungs itch for his aspirator, which he’d stopped carrying around with him years back. If he could only hold his breath until they went back out, he would. 

Did anyone ever clean this damn place? At least the movie theater held up to some kind of cleaning standard, being newer and all.

Being there with Richie didn’t help things. For one, it took him forever just to decide which stores he wanted to check out, and even longer to decide which shirts he was going to buy. On top of that, he repeatedly asked for Eddie’s opinion on everything he tried (and didn’t try), which made the whole process longer and infinitely more annoying—and why did it even matter what Eddie thought in the first place? You’d think Richie had never shopped for clothes before.

Over an hour into it, Eddie was wondering what the hell was he thinking when he actually believed Richie would be quick about it. He would have left if Richie hadn’t pulled him towards one last store, promising it would be the ‘very, very last one’ and then they could go. 

It was some rundown skater store that had far too much black on its shelves and far too many clothing racks packed together into the tiny, narrow space for Eddie’s comfort. It seemed to be fairly popular, too, although Eddie couldn’t fathom why. He could only feel annoyed as he stood waiting by the dressing room, shoulder-checked by every goddamn person that walked by.

Richie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be in any rush to get out of there. He was currently trying on his third pair.

As someone backed into him yet again, Eddie felt just about ready to explode. He could barely breathe in the store’s suffocating atmosphere. 

“Did you die in there or something?”

A few moments later, Richie emerged from behind the curtain in a pair of slim, black jeans that had rips along the knees, looking fairly unconcerned with Eddie’s distress. He opened his arms, glancing at him expectantly. “Do these look okay? I kinda like them.”

At the height of his frustration, Eddie scrubbed his hand against his face. “I don’t know,” he moaned in a pained way, reminded of what it was like shopping with his mother. “They look like jeans, Richie. Okay? They’re all the same, they’re all jeans. Just buy them and let’s go.”

“Why are you being so crabby? I just want to know what you think.”

“What I think doesn’t seem to change anything,” Eddie snapped. “Every time I say they’re fine, you go and try on another pair. What do you want me to say? That they look fantastic?”

“Well, do they?”

Eddie would have thrown up his arms if he had space to do so. Instead, he just sort of stood there, giving him the ‘I’m-so-fucking-done-with-this’ look. At this rate, they were never getting out of there.

“Okay, okay, I’ll rephrase the question,” Richie yielded, the corner of his lip quirking up. “Do these jeans make my ass look fat? Be honest.”

Eddie set his jaw, glaring at him for a long moment. If Richie wanted his opinion so badly… Eddie could give it to him.

“Okay, you really want to know what I think? Stop picking clothes that belong in a Halloween shop. You went from some weird obsession with Hawaiian shirts to looking like the star survivor of a zombie apocalypse movie.” He waved his hand at his jeans critically. “Seriously, why are they black? Jeans are supposed to be blue. They’re _blue_ -jeans. And why do they look like they’ve been through a shredder? Salvation Army could sell you the same shit for much cheaper. Why don’t you get yourself an attire consistent with the world you live in? Buy some Levis, for fuck’s sakes.”

Richie’s eyebrow had shot up at his rant, although he looked more amused than anything. “Wow… Am I sensing a PMSing vibe here? Pretty sure I am.”

Eddie groaned. “You should have taken Bev with you.” 

“But you’re so much more helpful,” Richie said with fond sarcasm, clearly relishing Eddie’s discomfort. He turned to the slim mirror on the wall and lifted up his hoodie so he could better check out his lower half. “Except—Levis? Seriously, Eds? Fuck, no.”

Eddie averted his eyes when a sliver of pale skin showed itself where the hoodie had been lifted too high, feeling oddly uncomfortable. Richie’s skin had always been smooth, like the surface of his mother’s porcelain dolls. 

“What the hell is wrong with Levis?” he asked defensively because yes, he used to own a pair.

“Yeah, if you want to look like Gramps who just discovered jeans and thinks he’s cool wearing a pair, sure, Levis are great. I’m trying to project a certain look here, you know?”

Eddie snorted, not even bothering to feel offended. “What look is that? Homeless and proud?” 

Richie actually laughed, looking away from the mirror. Did he think Eddie was kidding? 

“Do I embarrass you, Edward?”

“Fucking understatement of the year.”

“Then why do you hang out with me so much?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all my life.”

Richie finally retreated behind the black curtain, taking his annoying grin with him. “It’s my devilishly good looks and charm, you can admit it.”

“Whatever makes your massive ego happy,” Eddie grunted after him, relieved to hear the rustling of clothes inside the change room. Progress, at last.

Richie—fucking surprise—couldn’t even change quietly. “Why don’t you come in here and I’ll show you something else that’s massive?”

“Shut up and change, dumbass,” Eddie snapped. After a moment, he added promptly, “And you’re buying those jeans,” before Richie got any other ideas. 

“You like them.” The teasing tone was unmistakable.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t even like you.”

He turned away resolutely from the sound of Richie’s soft laugh, checking his wrist watch yet again. He was getting the feeling he would need to use a bathroom soon, which wasn’t helping matters. 

Standing in line took forever—of course. Richie didn’t shut up the entire time, annoying him with the stupidest questions ever (“Is ‘Queue’ just the letter Q followed by four silent letters?”), and the clerks couldn’t have been slower if they were made of molasses. When they finally left the store, it was already close to supper time, which was far longer than Eddie had ever intended on staying. 

“So we’re good, yeah?” Eddie asked, gesturing impatiently in the direction of the exit they needed to take. 

Richie slung the paper bags he was holding over his shoulder. “Actually, there’s one more thing. Um… it’s Bevvie’s birthday next week.”

Eddie blinked at him, not quite following the intent of the statement. Incidentally, he had forgotten all about her birthday, even though he had a vague recollection of Richie mentioning it before. 

“I just wanted to grab her something while I’m here,” Richie clarified. “You know, like a gift or something.”

Eddie could only utter a soft ‘Oh’, completely taken aback. He’d never known Richie to give gifts before. So why now? 

“Um… what sort of gift?”

Richie shrugged. “There was something in here, actually,”—he nodded towards the skater store—“that I thought was kinda cool. I think she’d like it. Do you mind if I go in and get it quickly? I’ll only be a sec.”

“Yeah… sure,” Eddie muttered, wondering if he should be getting her something, too. Although he’d never been the gifting type, either. 

Taking the shopping bags that Richie handed over to him, Eddie watched Richie disappear back into the store with an odd feeling. He really needed that breath of fresh air. His chest was beginning to feel tight. 

Thankfully, Richie didn’t take long this time. He returned some minutes later with a small black bag in his hand. Eddie didn’t ask him what he got, even though the question did linger in the back of his mind, and Richie didn’t volunteer the information.

“Can we go now?” Eddie asked, checking his watch for the umpteenth time. 

Richie retrieved his bags from him and they walked together towards the exit. As they passed the movie theater, Richie unexpectedly stopped him. 

“Hey, do you want to see a movie? There’s a bunch of good stuff playing right now,” he said, nodding towards the movie posters displayed on the wall. 

Eddie shook his head, just barely glancing over them. They haven’t seen a movie together in some time and he really wanted to, but… “If we don’t head back now, my mom will freak out. I told her I’ll be back by five when I called, and it’s past that already.”

“They have phones here, too.”

“And what would I say? I’m supposed to be studying for my test at the library. Which I haven’t done yet, by the way.”

“So say you have to study longer.”

“Richie, I can’t,” Eddie said firmly, although he did regret having to say it. He was already getting away with too much; he didn’t know how much more he could push for without raising suspicion. His mother still believed he was walking himself to school. “I don’t feel like getting questioned later.”

Richie sighed, scanning the crowd idly. “You never come over after school anymore.”

“You know it’s not that easy. Besides, your room is like a breeding ground for disease. I can’t believe you eat in there.”

“Hey, I cleaned it last week. I can clean it again, if it’s not clean enough for you.”

Eddie suspected it would never be clean enough for him because Richie was just that kind of guy, but he omitted saying that. “Look, just come over later or something, alright? Can we go now?”

“Okay, fine. But we’re not done talking about you coming over.”

“Yes, we are.”

Just as Eddie was about to make his way towards the exit, a familiar gruff voice called out from somewhere nearby, arresting his step. Eddie recognized it instantly, having heard it plenty of times around school. 

Just Eddie’s fucking luck.

“Hey, Tozier. Out with the girlfriend?”

It took Eddie a moment to process the words. Once their meaning sunk in, his whole body stiffened in blind anger, jaw clenching. What the fuck…?

He turned to face the speaker, who strolled out of the theater with a drink in his hand, a nasty sneer twisting his broad features. Fucking Scott Redkin. 

“Hey, Scott,” Richie greeted with pointed cheerfulness, a slight tension in his face. “How’s sis? Pregnant yet?”

His words earned him a deep scowl from Red, who hated to be called by his given name. “You know what, fucker? You’re really getting on my nerves lately,” he snarled, pointing a beefy finger at Richie and taking a menacing step forward that put him only a couple of feet away from Eddie. His entire stance oozed hatred. “I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut. One of these days, I’m going to shut it for you.”

Eddie felt his fingers curling in defensively, glaring at Red’s towering mass with the irrational urge to bury one of his fists into his stupid, freckled face. “You’re the one who needs to shut the fuck up,” he growled low, ignoring the warning bells in his head that were screaming at him to back the fuck off because Red was a big guy and he could really hurt him. Challenging him was not a good idea, especially in the middle of a crowded mall. 

But the words stung too hard, cut too deep. And threatening Richie… 

This wasn’t something Eddie was prepared to go along with. 

“Too bad you can’t make me, eh Kaspbrack?” Red taunted, sticking the same beefy finger into Eddie’s shoulder and shoving him back slightly. “I don’t fight girls, but hey… maybe your boyfriend here will bail you out.” 

Eddie locked eyes with him, a nauseating coil of anger and bile twisting his insides. It wasn’t the first time Red made fun of him for his appearance, not by far. 

But this… this was too much. This time, Red had crossed the fucking line. Just because Eddie was hanging out with a guy, that didn’t make him—

Fuck, Eddie wanted to break his face. 

“Eddie, let’s go.”

Eddie ignored the underlying plea in Richie’s guarded tone, letting the anger wash over him, clouding his judgment. He was so fed up with being the short, skinny kid that everyone in the fucking world seemed to find terribly amusing. Now he couldn’t even hang out with his friends without being called something degrading. 

He was so fucking done with it. 

If he could just imprint his fist into Red’s face, just once, just to show him that he wasn’t a goddamn pushover that couldn’t stand up for himself. He didn’t even care what happened to him after. Didn’t care that there were people around or that Richie was watching.

The urge to just do it completely overwhelmed him.

Red’s lip curled in invitation as though he’d guessed his intention. He looked amused, if anything. “Go for it, you little queer.”

Spurred on by the added insult, Eddie was just about to throw all caution to the wind when his arm was grabbed and he was forcefully being hauled away towards the exit, Richie’s fingers clenched into him with almost bruising force. 

Once he realized what was happening, Eddie attempted to extricate himself from it, hissing at Richie to let him go, but Richie’s grasp was unyielding. The last thing Eddie heard before he was dragged out of the sliding doors was Red’s triumphant “Fucking faggots,” that made him feel sick to his stomach. 

When Richie’s grip on him finally loosened, Eddie jerked his arm away and made his way to the car in long, quick strides. Richie kept close on his heel; Eddie could hear him breathing roughly through his nose just behind him.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” he asked when Eddie stopped by the passenger door and grasped the handle tightly in a silent command. “You’ve never cared about his shit before.”

This was different, Eddie wanted to say but didn’t. It was fucking embarrassing.

“Unlock the car,” he said with more bite than necessary, feeling pissed with Richie for dragging him away. He knew he was being unreasonable. He didn’t care. 

A frustrated sigh escaped Richie’s lips. “Why can’t you just ignore him? He’s just a stupid prick.”

“Unlock the damn car, Richie.”

There was a pause. When Richie spoke, something in his voice had changed. “Eddie—they’re just words. They mean nothing.”

Eddie glared off into the distance, remaining silent. They meant something to him.

“It’s me he’s after, okay? It has nothing to do with you.”

Eddie snorted softly. Yeah, right. 

Red had no reason to think Richie was _that way_ —none. Richie was tall and athletic, and got as many appreciative looks from girls at school as he gave out, which was to say lots. He flirted with them plenty, too. His only fault was hanging around Eddie too much, who got compared to a girl more often than he cared to admit, if only for being short and slim. 

And okay… maybe he was a little different, too. Unlike most other guys his age, he had no interest in girls—or anyone else, for that matter. It wasn’t his fault that he was raised as an extension of his mother for so many years, separated from the world. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to… associate with people. 

The only time he felt anything like normal was when he was around his friends… around Richie. Did that have to make Eddie something he was not? 

At his persisting silence, Richie muttered a quiet “I don’t get you sometimes,” and unlocked the passenger door, watching him get in.

They rode home in heavy silence, broken only by the radio that Richie fiddled with from time to time with the occasional grunt about how there was never anything good playing. 

Eddie kept quiet, watching the multitude of blended colours flying by his window, Red’s crude words playing on repeat over all other thoughts like a bad song that he couldn’t stand but couldn’t stop broadcasting in his head, either. 

When Richie turned off the engine at the Seven Eleven up the street from his house, Eddie turned to grab his backpack from the back seat, catching Richie’s eye briefly. 

“So… I’ll come over later?” 

Eddie looked out his window again. “Actually, I should probably study for the test tomorrow,” he heard himself say. “Maybe another time.”

“Eds… are you seriously going to be mad at me for this?”

Eddie was mad, yes, but there was something else too. Something… felt weird now. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

Silence stretched between them as Richie didn’t respond to him for some time. Eddie wanted to just take off, but felt obliged to stay behind until Richie acknowledged him. 

“Okay?” he tried again more insistently when it got a little too awkward. He could feel Richie’s eyes on him.

“Alright,” Richie said finally, his voice quiet with resignation. “Whatever you want.”

With a nod, Eddie hopped out of the car and headed home. 

Lying in his bed hours later, his anger all drained out, he finally allowed himself to regret his decision, if only slightly. 

He didn’t even touch his textbooks, Math being the last thing on his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Eddie… Eddie, join us.”_

Eddie awoke with a start, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest. He struggled with his erratic breathing for a few moments before his hand reflexively reached for the nightstand drawer. His trembling fingers grasped the handle of the drawer but faltered at the last moment and withdrew. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple. 

He could do without it. He didn’t need it. He didn’t.

Dropping back to the pillow and closing his eyes, he focused on deepening his breathing instead. He counted to five with each controlled inhalation, filling his lungs to capacity until they were almost uncomfortably tight, then exhaled slowly through his nose. 

It was one of the few tricks he’d learned from the countless emergency room trips he’d had to endure over the years, one that worked well for him. He still turned to his aspirator, if only out of pure habit, but not as often. He hated to rely on it as a crutch, knowing its effect was purely psychological. 

Gradually, the tension coiled in his body ebbed away, his limbs growing heavy and languid. The soft breeze trailing in through the open window brought the sweet scent of lilac with it, soothing him.

As he drifted away, the relic of the dream’s shadows within his mind dissolved into darkness.

~

He jolted back awake at the sound of someone knocking, his mother’s shrill voice filtering through the door. Eddie winced at the unpleasant throbbing in his temples, rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes. 

Bright rays of light streamed in through the windows, setting the sheer curtains aglow. He squinted, shielding his eyes. Too bright.

“Eddie, are you getting up?”

Triggered to check the time, Eddie swore out loud and sprang into action.

“I’m up now!” he shouted before making his way into the bathroom and dropping his pajamas into the laundry basket, feeling uncomfortably itchy. 

He allowed himself to relax for a while under the hot shower spray, realizing Richie would have gone ahead to school by then, anyway. He wasn’t particularly happy about it, but… he didn’t have much choice. It was either that or ask his mother for a ride, which she was bound to offer him anyway—and there was no way he was letting her drive him to school. At least the weather seemed nice. 

Eddie rubbed the stiffness out of his muscles, feeling annoyed with himself. He felt so tired, though. The last thing he wanted to do was take a long walk to school, especially since he was already supposed to be walking home that day. He didn’t sleep well, he could feel it. 

Why did he have to miss the damn alarm? And why didn’t his mother wake him up earlier?

When he returned to his room—to his great relief—his mother had gone back down. Slipping into some jeans and a polo, he took a quick moment to check himself over in the mirror and hurriedly made his way downstairs, shouldering his backpack. 

His stomach grumbled at the inviting smell of freshly made pancakes wafting from the kitchen, but if he were to go in there… he didn’t really feel like arguing with her.

Calling out a quick farewell, he rushed out of the house before she could stall him with her questions and quickly made his way up the street. The fresh, crispy air whipped at his face, refreshing in its morning chill.

In his haste, Eddie almost missed the black Chevy parked at the Seven Eleven with its owners slender figure slouched back against its side, hands deep in his pockets and blue hood low over his head.

Oh no, was Eddie’s first thought upon spotting it. What the actual fuck, Richie?

As he approached the car, Richie removed his hood and headphones in one smooth sweep, revealing a pale, drawn face that picked up slightly at the sight of him. 

“Richie, what are you doing here?” Eddie hissed, although his tone was devoid of any of its bite from the previous day. He checked his wrist watch, just to be sure he hadn’t made a mistake. “It’s nine thirty.”

“So?”

“So,” Eddie stressed, giving him a pointed look, “you were supposed to wait ten minutes and leave. That was like an hour ago.” 

Granted, this was the first time Eddie had been late in like, what, a year? But still. They’d made that rule for a reason, and now Eddie had to feel guilty about making Richie late on top of being late himself. He couldn’t even feel relieved he didn’t have to walk anymore.

“I felt like waiting,” was all Richie said with a nonchalant shrug, as though it had no consequence for him whatsoever. 

Eddie tossed his backpack into the back of the car and got into the front seat, shaking his head in dismay. “Next time, if I’m more than ten minutes late—leave. I could have been hours late, okay? Or not shown up at all. I could have gotten sick. Did you even think about that? Seriously, how long were you going to wait? I miss my fucking alarm once and this shit happens.”

The tension in Richie’s face eased into faint amusement. “Sounds like you didn’t get your stress relief today,” he said before swinging into the driver’s seat and starting up the car. “Pretty sure you never do, actually.” 

“Ugh… just shut up,” Eddie snapped, rubbing at his temple lightly. It was too early for this shit. “Like—really? First thing in the morning?”

“Is there a better time?”

Eddie groaned in disbelief. “Wipe that stupid smirk off your face.”

“I would but I’m all out of tissues.”

“Jesus. Can you just drive?”

Richie chuckled, tossing his Walkman and headphones into the back seat. “What’s the hurry?” he said, turning on the radio and browsing through stations. “Nobody is missing us. Trust me.”

“Pretty sure the office will when attendance comes in.”

“Being late one time won’t hurt you.”

“It might hurt you,” Eddie pointed out. “With all your detentions, I wouldn’t be surprised if they suspended you.”

“Big deal.” 

Once he settled on a rock station playing one of his favourite songs, Richie turned to look at him. “Are you sure you won’t let me drop you off after school? It’s not like we’ll be in a rush or anything.”

“I’ll walk,” Eddie reasserted, not sure himself why he was so insistent on it when he didn’t even feel up to walking. “Drive already.”

Richie gave him a two-finger mock salute. “Ay-ay, Cap’n.”

They arrived just in time for the second period Math test, which Eddie had completely forgotten about up to that point. He still blamed Richie, who winked at him as they separated into their assigned seats. 

Eddie spent most of the period staring at his test blankly, vision swimming from the pounding behind his eyelids. Even reading out the questions was a struggle. He just wanted to press something cold against his forehead and go to sleep. 

It sort of struck him halfway through that he should have just stayed home and skipped school that day. But then, Richie would have probably missed the test waiting for him. Why did he even have to wait? Eddie could only guess Richie had worried that he was still mad at him from the day before. Was that enough reason to miss class though? Idiot.

Two seats to his left, Richie was scribbling rapidly on the test paper like he didn’t even need to _think_ , looking perfectly relaxed and self-assured.

Eddie exhaled a pained sigh and stopped trying.

~

“Well lookie who the cat finally dragged in,” Richie exclaimed when Eddie plopped into the empty seat next to him, dropping his backpack to the floor and nodding at the others in greeting. 

For once, almost everyone was gathered round the table—Ben being the only exception. The overpowering smell of junk food wafting over from the serving counter filled his nostrils, a large stash of it in Richie’s lunch tray, as per usual. Eddie scrunched up his nose at it. At least his headache had passed.

“Did you get lost on the way here?” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said, casting a quick glance around the cafeteria. Red was probably smoking behind the school dumpsters again, now that it was warm enough to do so – Eddie had seen him do it plenty of times from the second floor window. Relaxing slightly, he added, “I had to see Stiles about my Math grade.” 

Richie cocked an eyebrow, slipping one earbud out of his ear as he watched Eddie dig around in his backpack. Eddie could hear the faint bass of the rock band Richie was listening to. “Why? I thought you were doing okay.”

“Not after this test. And it was worth… what, 20% of the final grade?”

“Didn’t you study yesterday?”

“Oh, um… yeah,” Eddie said quickly, pulling out his insulated lunch bag and dropping it onto the table with disinterest. “Guess it wasn’t enough.”

Bill had stopped chewing on his sandwich, watching him with a note of concern in his eyes. “How badly do you think you did?”

Eddie shrugged. “I failed.”

“How do you know?” Richie probed, pointing at his face with a long fry. “Maybe you did better than you think.”

Eddie grimaced, pushing his hand away. “Get that artery-clogging thing out of my face, I don’t even want to inhale it. And trust me, I failed it.” 

Richie popped the fry into his mouth and licked his fingers. “How many questions did you manage to do, though?”

“None.”

“None?” Richie asked in surprise, looking puzzled. He pulled the second earbud out of his ear, as though he wanted to make sure he was hearing Eddie correctly. On his other side, Beverly had a similarly curious look. “None what? Questions?” 

“That’s what you asked, dipshit.” 

“So what, you like handed in a blank test?” Stan asked incredulously, pausing his forkful of food in mid-air. He was having that beef stew that had boiled eggs in it again. Couldn’t he pack a sandwich for once?

“I guess.”

Richie looked dubious. “I could have sworn I saw you writing something.” 

“Yeah, I doodled on it. I was bored.”

Richie’s lips schooled into a grin, like he couldn’t help it. “Was it a dick?”

“You’re a dick.”

“No, but seriously… imagine his face though,” Richie said, laughing. “I would have paid to see that.”

Grabbing a handful of fries, Eddie tried to shove them into Richie’s mouth, who batted at his hand until he was forced to take them in, still snorting up chuckles around the messy mouthful, bits and pieces of it falling to the floor. 

Eddie gagged a little at the sight, his appetite dropping another notch. He could almost see the grease liquefying into Richie’s bloodstream. He shuddered, wiping his hands on a napkin. How could Richie eat this shit every day? 

“So what did he say?” Bill prompted, looking serious despite their theatrics.

“What did he say?” Eddie echoed, hesitating. “Well… basically he said that ‘ineptitude’ runs in families and that I should save the state some money by dropping out, like my dad did.” As Bill’s eyebrows shot up, he shrugged and added, “Whatever, I don’t care.” 

He still didn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved. He didn’t remember much of his father, but he knew he’d made a good living as a contractor up to his untimely death. And it wasn’t that Eddie considered himself incapable … he just never felt very strongly about school. As a result, his grades had always been average or below.

Stiles only articulated what Eddie had been thinking all along – he wasn’t really meant for all the ‘higher education’ bullshit. 

Beverly hummed sympathetically. She was back in a sweater today, her dangly earrings matching the bright shade of green. “He said something very similar to me last year,” she recalled, picking at her salad. “He was never a joy to have.”

As Bill and Stan joined in to share some of their own experiences, Eddie peered into his lunch bag, pulling a face. Boiled eggs. Good thing he wasn’t all that hungry. 

As if on cue, Richie made a noise in the back of his throat. “Almost forgot.” He picked up the carton of milk in his tray and tossed it over to Eddie. “Your daily dose of growth hormones. Bottoms up.”

Eddie flipped him off as he caught it, only tolerating the jibe because he loved his milk. Richie got it for him every lunch, and Eddie was secretly grateful for it. His mother rarely packed him anything good and milk made an amazing substitute for a meal, as it was both filling and nutritious. You couldn’t beat its practicality. 

He dropped his shoulders after fumbling with the edges for a bit. “Fuck’s sake, why does it even say ‘Open Here’ when it’s impossible to open it anywhere? Whoever designed these was fucking stupid.” 

“At least it doesn’t say ‘Open Somewhere Else’,” Richie pointed out helpfully. “Then what would you do?” 

Eddie just ripped the top apart in response and rocked back on the back legs of his chair to sip at it, giving Richie a warning glance not to trip him. Richie only grinned in return, putting his hands up. 

“He’s not a bad teacher overall, though,” he caught Stan’s remark, who was dutifully cleaning off his fork with a napkin before switching to his desert. “Mr. Stiles.”

Richie huffed out a mocking laugh. “That decrepit old man? Yeah right. All he ever does is talk about his golfing scores. Like—I don’t give a shit, Grandpa. And quit staring at my dick.”

Stan raised his eyebrow. “Why would he stare at your dick, Richie?”

“Penis envy. Classic case. I bet he wears those baggie corduroys to hide his wrinkly stiffies.”

Eddie nearly spurted milk out of his nose, his chair coming down abruptly. Someone groaned ‘Oh God’, the voiced anguish matching the faces around the table. Stan looked really sorry he asked.

“Fuck, that’s… sick,” Eddie said, the milk in his stomach churning. “Thanks for that mental image, Richie. Jesus. What is it with you and dicks?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“No!” Eddie snapped forcefully. “What I really want is for you to shut up. Why don’t you stuff some more fries in your mouth,” he pushed the cardboard container into Richie’s hands pointedly, “or I’ll be happy to shove them down your throat again. That’s it. Yeah. Great.” 

He resumed sipping from his milk carton once satisfied Richie would be quiet for a while, albeit cautiously.

Having finished his sandwich, Bill leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms, watching Eddie with a contemplative look on his face. “You’re not worried you’ll have to stay back a year? If you fail Math.”

“Sounds like he might have to,” Stan jumped in, meticulously dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. “Mr. Stiles is pretty strict, Eddie. You’d have to do really well on your mid-terms and finals to pass the class.”

“Whatever, I’m not coming back here if it comes to that,” Eddie grumbled, shaking the carton to see if there was any milk left. A group of girls giggled at a nearby table, their shrill voices grating to his ears. He was sick of this place, anyway. “If I don’t graduate this year, fuck it, I’m out of this shithole.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “You mean abandon mommy? You’d have to chop the umbilical cord first. And find a new drug supplier.” 

Beverly giggled from his other side, nudging him in reproach. “You’re so bad, Richie.”

Eddie threw the empty carton at him, which Richie dodged easily. It dropped to the floor with a soft thud. 

“You’re picking that up,” Eddie said before clarifying, “and I meant out of here,”—he jabbed his finger at the surface of the lunch table—“this fucking place.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Stan asked, clearly not sharing his opinion.

“Just sick of it, that’s all.”

“You mean you really want to drop out? You don’t care about graduating?”

Eddie made a soft grunt. He wasn’t sure if he cared or not, but he wasn’t going to return for another damn year. He was sure he could make it without a diploma. His father did. “There are shitloads of successful people that didn’t even finish high school.”

“You mean like Einstein?” Stan suggested, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“No, I meant rich people,” Eddie corrected pointedly. “People who have their own business, for example. You don’t need high school for that. Plus—being your own boss, right? The last thing I need is to take orders from some miserable fart like Stiles for the rest of my life. Whatever, I’ll figure it out.”

Richie nodded along enthusiastically. “I was thinking the same thing! We could even go into business together. Shit, think of all the birth control pills we could sell.”

Eddie snorted, picturing Richie in a suit. “You, a business man? With your fashion history, I’d suggest a comedian. But then… you’d need someone else to write your material for you.”

“Ouch!” Richie exclaimed in a wounded manner, placing a hand over his heart. “Eds… that hurt.”

Eddie could only snicker quietly under his breath, joined by Beverly’s giggles. He was saved a retort when Ben rushed up to the table with a large stack of papers in his arms and slumped down in the seat next to Beverly, looking thoroughly exhausted. 

Eddie was almost surprised to see him, he’d been missing out on so many lunches in favour of his school projects. His short hair was slicked back with gel—a habit he’d developed somewhere in his 16th year—his now taller, thinner frame clad in a pair of light pants and a dark sweater vest over a white button-up shirt. He had been dressing this way for a couple of years already. Who was he trying to impress, anyway?

“Hey guys. Sorry I’m late,” he said a little out of breath, exchanging a quick smile with Beverly. “Did you guys decide on what we’re doing for Bev’s birthday yet?”

“I was waiting for you to get here to bring that up,” Bill said, watching Ben deposit his stack of papers onto the table and rummage around in his backpack. “Any ideas?”

Eddie blinked in some confusion. Apparently, he was behind on the times. Again. It didn’t help that he was out of the phone loop with the group. “Wait, what are we doing?”

“Richie was supposed to tell you,” Ben said, looking between the two of them. “We were thinking of going out together… you know, to celebrate.”

Richie grinned sheepishly when Eddie looked at him in question. “Oops. Must have slipped my mind. Not like we decided on anything, anyway.”

“Actually, I was thinking… we could go to the Barrens again,” Beverly piped in, darting her eyes amongst them to gauge their reactions. “I’ll be visiting my aunt this weekend, but I’m pretty sure I’m free next weekend, so I was thinking maybe… next Saturday?”

The group exchanged looks with a general murmur of assent. Ben spoke up. “Love the idea. Next Saturday works for me, too. We’ll have to ask Mike, hope he makes it this time.”

“Too bad it won’t be warm enough for swimming,” Richie said, clicking his tongue. “What if it rains?” He nodded in the direction of the large windows lining the walls.

Eddie looked out with the others, realizing with a start that the sunny sky had clouded over and it had started to drizzle, sharp gusts of wind whipping the branches of the flowering shrubs back and forth. The dark grey clouds didn’t seem to be in any rush to pass over, either.

Great, he thought in dismay. So much for the good weather he’d relied on. It was a good thing he had an umbrella stashed away somewhere in his locker for days when he had to tell his mother he walked all the way home in the rain when he’d only walked down from Seven Eleven. Hiding things from her had never been easy. 

He could always call her to pick him up, but… he wasn’t going to do that.

“We’ll just have to expect the unexpected and have a contingency plan,” Bill said. “Honestly, we can probably crash at my place if it gets to that.”

“Doesn’t expecting the unexpected make the unexpected expected?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes along with some of the others, smacking Richie’s arm and receiving a soft ‘Ow’ in return. You could always trust Richie to come up with the most redundant comments. On the other hand… that’s what made him Richie. 

Bev clapped her hands together, eyes alit with excitement. “This is going to be the best! Remember how much fun we had last time? We could find that spot for the fire again. I’ll bring marshmallows this time.”

Her enthusiasm was contagious. Pretty soon, everyone around the table was reminiscing in the memory, bringing up all the odd and funny bits from the last time they’d gone there all together. 

Eddie remembered it well. It was the weekend before school started in September, a sort of end-the-summer-with-a-bang thing; everyone but Mike had made it. They’d managed to find the clubhouse, too – in a mess but still standing, to everyone’s great surprise. Richie and Ben had been the only brave souls to enter, although they did come out covered in dirt and bugs. They spent most of the evening swimming in the Quarry and wandering the woods, then ending the night by sharing stories around a bonfire.

It had been pretty awesome. It still triggered a warm and toasty feeling inside whenever Eddie thought of it. He smiled to himself, pretty happy with the idea of doing it over again.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when someone’s foot bumped his under the table. He didn’t even need to check to know who it was. He darted a questioning glance in Richie’s direction, whose lips turned up in response.

“You’re riding with me, right?” he mouthed silently, pointing a thumb at himself. 

Eddie shook his head pointedly, mouthing a clear ‘No’ in return, although he was really just being mean. He turned his attention away from Richie’s kicked-puppy look, catching Bill mid-sentence.

“—found it with Annie when we went there last fall. It’s larger, with logs to sit on, not much further away. We can make the fire there.”

“How’s Annie, by the way?” Beverly asked, leaning her face into her hands. “Will you ask her to come?”

Richie grinned at Bill. “Lovely Annie… I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.”

“She’s going to be visiting family upstate next week,” Bill said, not looking concerned with Richie’s comment. “We should all get together sometime soon, though.”

Eddie remained quiet at the mention of Bill’s girlfriend. Bill met her at some summer club he attended the previous year and they had been together ever since. She attended Mike’s high school so Eddie didn’t see her often except when she joined their occasional get-togethers at Bill’s house. She was nice enough, and pretty too, but something about her made Eddie uncomfortable. 

Feeling another kick under the table, Eddie turned to level a glare at Richie, who looked perfectly oblivious to it—the ass—pretending to be listening intently to what Bill was saying in response to Beverly’s questions. 

“Cut it out, dumbass,” Eddie muttered, keeping his voice low so Richie was the only one to hear him. 

Richie’s voice, when it came, was a soft murmur. “Okay, Shortcake.”

Eddie shook his head. “Asshole.”

“Sprout.”

“Fucker.”

“Sweet Pea.”

Eddie gritted his teeth, hissing louder than intended, “Shut up.”

“Are you two done over there?” Bill said in their direction, his tone rising a notch higher than usual. “Can we all act like adults for just a minute and decide who’s driving who?”

“Uh… we’re not actually adults yet, Bill.”

Eddie was still glaring at Richie. “And some of us never will be.”

“I’ll be driving my dad’s truck,” Bill continued pointedly, “so I’ll be taking four people with me, which means Richie – you have to take someone with you. I’m guessing Eddie?”

Eddie gave an exaggerated sigh. “If I have to.” 

“Love your enthusiasm,” Richie shot at him.

“I could still change my mind.”

“You love riding with me.”

“… I’m riding with Bill.”

Richie gave him a disbelieving look, which received a resolute front from Eddie. “You’re seriously going to ditch me?”

“I’ll go with you, Richie,” Bev said after a few moments, placing a placating hand on Richie’s arm. “We have to work on that project, anyway, right? I can come over early. I got that book from the library.”

The odd glance they exchanged didn’t pass Eddie’s notice. He couldn’t remember them saying anything about working on any kind of project before, but okay. Not like he had to know everything all the time.

Richie raked a hand through his hair, not looking overly enthusiastic. “Yeah, okay. But I’m dropping Eddie home after.”

“Alright, it’s settled, then,” Bill concluded, getting up to go just as the bell announced the end of the lunch period. “I’ll call Mike tonight.”

~

That Friday, Bill caught up with Eddie in the hallway after the last class of the day. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinking,” he started, pulling Eddie out of the flow of students rushing to make their way out of the building. He had a number of small novels from the school library clutched against his chest. “Maybe I could help you with Math. You know… homework, study, prepare for the mid-terms. Whatever will help you pull through.”

Eddie knew he was on his way to the library, where he spent hours every day to avoid going home. Bill never said as much, using the time to finish up homework and work on his writing, but he started doing so after his little brother died a couple of years back. Eddie never asked him why he did it but he guessed it was because everything at home still served as a painful reminder of what was no longer there. Losing his brother was devastating for Bill—so much so he’d developed a stutter shortly after. But while the stutter did fade over time, Bill’s heartbreak did not. 

Sometimes, Eddie thought Bill saw something of his little brother in him.

“Thanks, but… it’s not that big of a deal for me,” he said, not really surprised by the offer. Bill had been throwing him concerned looks all week. 

“It should be,” Bill insisted, looking at him intently. “Having a high school diploma is really important, Eddie, even if you plan to start your own business later. It’s not all that easy, you know. Lots of people fail and they have nothing to fall back on. If you graduate, at least you’ll have something.”

“I don’t plan on failing.”

“Nobody does,” Bill pointed out matter-of-factly. “But it happens more than you think. Especially when you’re the kind of person that doesn’t practice finishing what they started. You’ve come all this way, why give up now?”

Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck with a small sigh as he considered Bill’s words. If he was to be honest with himself, he didn’t really want to fail the class and have to drop out, regardless of what he had said the previous day. It was just that… “I don’t know if I’m smart enough for that class.”

Bill gave him a look. “Eddie… we’ve known each other for what—over nine years now? Richie is probably the only person that knows you better than I do. Trust me when I say this, you’re one of the smartest guys I know. You just don’t apply yourself to it because you think you don’t need it. If you practiced every day, I know you could pass that class.” 

Eddie blinked at the unexpected compliment. “That’s… thanks, Bill.”

“I’m here every day after school anyway, you know that. Just drop by for an hour after class and I’ll help you through it. The library is nice and quiet. I find it very easy to focus while I’m there.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said reluctantly, shifting his weight. If he agreed, it would mean walking home every day for— “How long are we talking about?”

Bill shrugged. “As long as you need. Maybe till you get your grade for the mid-term exam? Then we’ll see.”

Eddie bit at the inside of his lip, struggling with the decision. 

On the one hand, he really wanted to take Bill up on his offer. Bill was a good teacher—he was patient and he could always explain things in a way that Eddie could understand. On the other hand… there was Richie. 

Eddie knew very well Richie would be upset; he’d offered to help him before, many times, which Eddie had always refused because studying with Richie was impossible—for Eddie, at least. All Richie did was distract him. Plus, he was so set on driving Eddie home every day… it wouldn’t be easy to break such news to him. Not at all.

Eddie needed this, though. He needed the help. He was sure to fail without it. And Bill was probably not going to relent anyway. He just cared too damn much. 

“Okay,” he said finally at Bill’s expectant look, feeling just a little shitty about it. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.” 

Bill’s face brightened perceptibly. “Great. When do you want to start?” 

“Um, not today… Richie’s probably waiting for me already.”

“Actually, I’m not sure the Physics class has been dismissed yet. The door was still closed when I passed it. You could find him and tell him.”

Eddie shook his head resolutely. It wasn’t exactly a last-minute type of conversation to have with Richie. He would need the weekend to figure out how to say it best, then talk to him on their ride to school Monday morning. “I think it’s best we start next week.” 

“Monday, then,” Bill said with a nod, then added as an afterthought with a trace of concern, “Will you be able to get away next Saturday for Bev’s birthday? Mike said he thinks he can make it this time. Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

It wasn’t going to be easy, Eddie thought, leaving for the whole evening without a suitable excuse. The previous time, he’d told her he was going swimming; she’d still freaked out when he returned after dark, but he was able to somewhat appease her by saying he went to see a late movie after. This time, he would have to figure something else out. 

“I’ll sneak out if I have to,” he said, and he was ready to – if it came to that. He wasn’t going to be the one missing out this time.

There was a pause on Bill’s side. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with Richie?”

“He’s got Bev.”

“Alright. Let me know what time works for you once you’ve figured it out.”

Once Bill had gone to the library, Eddie decided to walk over to the Physics lab anyway, just in case Richie was going to be held up for a while longer. Their usual was to wait for each other at the car unless they crossed ways inside, but… what the hell. Didn’t hurt to check.

He took two steps at a time to get to the second floor where the lab was. Most classes had already been dismissed, so the hallways were emptying quickly. As he approached the lab, he could see that the door to the room was open. Fuck. He was too late. 

On the off chance that Richie was still packing up inside, Eddie stepped up to the door frame to peer inside… and froze.

At first, he thought they were hugging. But the more seconds ticked by, the clearer it became to him.

They were kissing.

Richie’s back was turned to Eddie, hiding most of Beverly’s slim frame from view, so Eddie couldn’t be sure, but… there was no mistaking it. Richie was _leaning_ into her. He was holding her so close there was no space left between them, while her small hand with black-painted nails ran up and down his back idly.

Eddie stood rooted to his spot, unable to step in or step back, much less utter a word. His heart hammered rapidly in his chest, bringing with it a rush of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to sort through. 

Suddenly, everything came back to him in a different light—every word, every flirt, every casual touch… all the extra time they’d been spending together lately. How did he not see it before? It should have been so goddamn obvious to him. 

And Richie… Richie never told him.

At the realization, something inside Eddie twisted painfully, his chest inexplicably raw. Maybe things were changing between them, after all. 

He needed to get out of there. He didn’t want to see this. 

He must have made some kind of a noise. Abruptly, Beverly tilted her head to the side and fixed her eyes directly on him. It triggered an instant shift in her expression. 

Heat shot up into Eddie’s face, setting his cheeks ablaze. 

Taking one step back, he turned on his heel and bolted down the hallway without any clear heading in mind. He just needed to get out of there. He needed air or… something. He didn’t even know.

Making a sharp turn into the closest washroom, he dropped his backpack and splashed cold water onto his face until it no longer felt like it was on fire. His hands shook as he leaned over the sink, staring at the stream of water disappearing down the drain while his mind played the image he’d witnessed over and over again like a faulty movie projector that was skipping over the same frame without end. 

It made his head spin. He felt sick.

Bringing his head up, he glanced at his reflection resentfully. Large, brown eyes stared back at him from under lowered eyebrows, the narrow sliver of flesh on his temple standing out in stark contrast against his pale skin.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he feel so… betrayed? 

Richie had been close to Beverly for years, so it only made sense they got together. They were right for each other. So what if Richie didn’t tell him about it? Bill hadn’t told him about Annie until they were a few months into their relationship. Eventually, they were all going to have their own private lives, so… it was really none of his business. 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, berating himself. He was being fucking stupid. Overreacting like this didn’t make any sense. It was stupid. 

Drying off his face, he picked up his backpack and headed downstairs towards his locker at a brisk pace while his thoughts continued to plague him, intensifying the sense of dread that was beginning to settle deep in his stomach. 

He should have never gone up to look for Richie. He should have never seen. Not knowing was easy, but this… he didn’t know how to deal with this. What was he even going to say to Richie if he brought it up? Was it going to be weird now that he knew?

Once he reached his locker, he paused momentarily as a thought surfaced in his mind. He could avoid it, at least for that day… he could—he glanced down the hallway toward the library, when—

—his eyes unexpectedly locked with Richie’s. 

He was standing at the very end of the hallway, out of breath and with his sleeves pulled up like he’d been running around, his face drawn and wary.

Shit. 

Experiencing a sudden urge to turn around and run in the opposite direction, Eddie turned his face towards the cold, grey metal of his locker instead, steeling his features as he dialed in the lock combination.

Moments later, Richie was at his side. “Eddie.”

“Hey,” Eddie said without turning around. He rattled the door to his locker, which had chosen exactly that moment to get stuck on him, feeling annoyed with how shaky his voice sounded. When it didn’t give, he kicked at it, muttering a curse.

“Here… let me.”

Eddie felt himself being pushed off to the side as Richie stepped in, keyed in the combination one more time and gave the handle a hard, angled shove, the muscles in his forearms tensing. The door cracked open. 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbled almost indistinctly, waiting for Richie to move. 

Richie leaned back against it instead, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Everything okay?”

Eddie wanted to say everything was great. Instead, he said, “Move, Richie.”

“Listen, about—what you saw earlier…”

“I’m going to hang out with Bill at the library for a while,” Eddie cut in quickly, sensing heat creeping back into his face. Fucking hell, Richie just had to bring it up right away. “Just wanted to tell you not to wait for me.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Richie shift. “Why?”

“He offered to help me study.”

“Study what?”

Eddie grew tense at the touch of anger in Richie’s voice, although he’d fully expected it. “Math.”

“Math,” Richie repeated, his tone carefully controlled. “I thought you didn’t want any help. Or does that only apply to me?”

Eddie felt his chest tighten further. Why did Richie have to make him feel so goddamn guilty about it? It’s not like they’d never tried studying together before. Richie knew himself how that worked out—or rather, didn’t work out. So why did he have to act like Eddie was doing it on purpose?

“He insisted, okay? I couldn’t say no.” 

“You haven’t had any problems saying no to me lately.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Eddie let out a sigh, wavering. This was coming out all wrong. If only he could have dealt with what happened like a normal fucking person… he could have done this better. 

This fucking mess was his own damn fault.

“I asked you to move,” he said finally, because falling back on anger was easy. From all the emotions swirling around inside of him, anger was the one he could understand—the one he didn’t have to think about. “He’s waiting for me.”

After a few moments of heavy silence, Richie pushed himself away from the locker, moving to stand at his side. 

Eddie tried his best to keep his hands steady while he switched out his books as quickly as he could manage it, feeling nervous under Richie’s stare. Once he was done, he slammed the locker door shut. 

“So is this a one-time deal, or?”

“Till midterms at least,” Eddie said, not meeting his eye. “See you later.”

It was better this way anyway, he told himself as he walked away.

Richie clearly had better things to focus on now. 

~

When Eddie finally arrived home that day, he headed straight for bed. 

He spent most of the hour at the library driving himself crazy trying _not_ to think of everything that had happened while dodging Bill’s questioning looks along with his own feelings of guilt and inadequacy, so by the time he got home, he felt like he was in the midst of some terrible, debilitating illness that turned his stomach and made him want to lie down and never get up again. 

His mother took one look at him and went straight for the medicine cabinet.

Eddie barely protested when she poured a handful of pills into his hand, urging him to take them so he could feel better. He doubted they could make him feel better, but he took them anyway.

He couldn’t argue with her, and he wasn’t going to win, anyway. He just wanted to go to sleep and stop thinking for a while. He trusted they could help with that.

He washed them down with just a few sips of water before changing into his bedtime clothes and curling up under the comfort of his covers, not feeling soothed one bit by his mother’s cold, tight-lipped kiss to his cheek before she left the room.

Within what felt like minutes, he was floating. 

The downpour of thoughts and emotions eased as his mind gradually dissociated from his body, clearing the shores of his consciousness. It was such a relief… like a weight that had been lifted from his chest.

Bit by bit, his muscles loosened beyond his control, his breaths falling further and further apart with each rise and fall of his chest until he couldn’t even tell if he was breathing anymore.

As he felt himself slipping under, a distant memory streamed over from his subconscious where it nestled safely, waiting to resurface—a gentle brush of lips against his… not cold and distant, but soft and warm like a promise. 

He held onto it as everything went dark.


	4. Chapter 4

When Eddie woke, the room was immersed in darkness, the dead silence of the night disturbed only by a soft, rhythmic pitter-patter against the windows. After stretching out his lax limbs, he took a deep breath, pressed in tighter against his pillow and stared at the opposite wall.

While the initial shock at his discovery dampened considerably over the time he’d slept, the ache inside his chest was still there, and… it was confusing him. Why did it hurt at all? 

Why did it feel like… he’d lost something? 

It was only natural that Richie would eventually get a girlfriend. Now that Eddie thought about it, it was surprising that it took Richie that long to get one, being the flirt that he was. Eddie didn’t have enough fingers to count all the girls in school that cast him appreciative glances, Beverly included, so he couldn’t see Richie having any trouble getting one, if he wanted to. And yet, all he ever did was hang around Eddie—up to that point, at least. Why?

Maybe… he’d always liked Beverly and was just waiting for the right time to make his move. Or maybe he felt guilty about having a girlfriend when Eddie did not, since they were such close friends for nearly eight years and spent most of their free time together, which granted wasn’t nearly as much after Eddie started hiding Richie from his mother, but still. For a long time, they were inseparable. They knew each other better than anyone else—better than their own parents knew them.

That was probably why Richie hadn’t told him about it. Guilt. It made sense. 

Eddie could understand that; he would probably feel guilty, too, if he were in his position—initially, at least. But there was no reason for it, no reason at all. Eddie would get over it, like he got over everything else. It was really no big deal. It wasn’t.

Sitting himself up with difficulty, he scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling lightheaded and weak. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his mouth was dry and tacky. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this shitty. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those damn pills. 

This was exactly the reason why he’d stopped taking them years ago—this and the fact that they never did him any good, never once making him feel the way he wanted to feel, which was to feel normal; never once filling the emptiness that he’d carried around with him for years not even knowing why it was there, only knowing there was something missing from his life—from himself. Something he desperately needed but couldn’t get because he didn’t even know what it was. 

Without it, he was broken. Incomplete. And he didn’t know if he would ever find that missing part of him. Pills couldn’t help him with that. 

Turning on the bed lamp, he squinted against the sudden flood of bright light, covering his eyes until they grew accustomed to it. A quick glance at the clock told him it was half past 11 PM. 

He felt hungry, but the thought of sneaking into the kitchen for a snack only made his stomach churn with queasiness, so he decided against it. All he needed was some water. He could try eating something in the morning.

Shuffling his way to the bathroom, he stopped dead when a familiar, pronounced ‘tap’ hit his window, unmistakable in its quality. 

Fuck, was his initial thought. Please, God. Not now.

Moving to the window to push it open, Eddie peered down below, hoping against hope that he’d heard wrong. He hadn’t. In the faint shimmer of the streetlight cutting through the drizzling rain, Eddie could clearly make out the familiar hooded figure standing by the fence, partially obscured by the lilac shrubs.

Eddie could only groan quietly to himself. Since the mall incident, Richie hadn’t come by, not even once. So why was he here now? Why today? 

He knew the answer, of course, he fucking knew. It just wasn’t a good time at all and he wasn’t in the mood to argue about anything. But then… Richie never cared about timing. He showed up whenever he wanted to, whether Eddie felt like it or not. Fuck, he’d been half surprised when Richie didn’t show up the night of their trip to the mall despite the fact that Eddie had specifically asked him not to. 

“What the fuck, Richie?” he hissed, doubly annoyed to see him standing under the rain without any cover. “Are you trying to get pneumonia, asshole?” 

“Can I come up?” Richie’s voice rose in response, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain. 

Despite everything, Eddie wasn’t about to let him stand in the rain. “Hurry up!”

With a few well-practiced lunges and leaps, Richie climbed up to the window and slipped in, dropping his hood back and shaking off rain droplets from his curly hair. Eddie was relieved to see he wasn’t all that wet, so he couldn’t have been standing there long. 

The smell of rain followed him into the room, making Eddie want to step closer and breathe it in. He had always loved its fresh, earthy scent, ever since he was a small child. He took a step back instead.

“Richie, what are you doing here?” he asked because it was definitely pretty late for a visit. Whenever Richie dropped in, he usually left around midnight. “It’s after eleven already.”

“Just thought I’d see if you were up,” Richie said with a shrug as though that was explanation enough. Kicking off his tennis shoes and discarding his damp jacket onto the floor, he pushed past Eddie, dropping down onto his bed as naturally as though it were his own. “God, I love your place… always so tidy.”

“Until you come around, that is.”

“… Hey, are you okay? You look kind of out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie said because blood was rushing back into his head and he did feel a little better for it. He cringed at seeing Richie’s outdoor clothes on top of his sheets. “Get your ass off my bed, your clothes are… wet and dirty.”

“I could take them off, if you prefer,” Richie offered with a teasing glint in his eye. 

Eddie sighed in aggravation. At least it didn’t seem like Richie was there to argue, which was a relief. “Why don’t you take yourself off instead,” he said pointedly before picking up Richie’s jacket and shoes and going over to the bathroom to lay them out neatly to dry. When he returned to the room, he tossed a towel over to him. “Is it so much harder to hang your clothes instead of throwing them on the floor?” 

Richie used it to scrub his face dry before bunching it up and tossing it away like Eddie hadn’t even said anything. He then proceeded to pull his hoodie over his head, raising himself off the bed at an angle. “Is your mom in heat or something? S’fucking hot in here.”

Eddie shook his head. “Why do I even bother talking to you? You never fucking listen.” 

When Richie’s head emerged from under the thick fabric, his damp curls were in a mess. “What’s that? I wasn’t listening.”

Eddie flipped him off, getting an annoying grin in return. Richie was wearing the jeans they’d bought together at the mall and a black t-shirt with the words ‘Parental Advisory: Explicit Content’ boxed in white across the front. He got it at the concert festival they’d snuck off to after Eddie pointed it out as being perfect for him. And Eddie still thought it was.

Hooking the towel with his foot from where it landed at the side of the bed, Richie flung it up and caught it in his hand, dropping it pointedly onto the bed stand. “There. Happy, Mr. Kaspbrak? It’s not on the floor.”

“I use this on my face, you know,” Eddie said gruffly, snatching it from the bed stand with two fingers and rushing it over to the laundry basket, muttering under his breath. “Those socks probably haven’t seen a washing machine in years.”

When he returned to the room, the bed covers were pushed to the side in a tangled mess and Richie had sprawled out comfortably on top of the fitted sheet, eyeing the movie posters that were hung all over the walls. “How did your studying go?”

And there it was. “Fine, I guess.”

“So you’re really going to go every day?”

Eddie averted his eyes, feeling like he needed to apologize for it or something. “It’s not like I really want to do it, you know—sitting there for an hour doing homework and shit. I don’t like studying any more than you do.” Or walking home alone for that matter, he added to himself. “But given the choice, I’d prefer to pass the class, and it’s only going to be for a few weeks.”

“So Bill’s really that good at it, huh? And here I thought his grades in Math were no better than yours.”

As he spoke, Richie glanced over the surface of the desk, where stacks of comic books and school books were organized into several neat piles—alphabetically—along with Eddie’s childhood collection of action figures that he hadn’t had the heart to throw away yet, although the interest had gone a long time ago. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, he leaned over the edge of the bed and fished something out of Eddie’s opened backpack, leaning back into the pillow to leaf through it. 

Realizing it was his Math notebook, Eddie rushed up to the bed and tried to snatch it away from him, but Richie held him at bay with his arm, looking over the contents of the last pages. 

Eddie bit at the inside of his lip. Shit.

“Put it back, Richie,” he hissed, making a few futile attempts to grab it while trying his best not to topple over him. Richie only held it out further to the opposite side, his long arm well out of reach. “Who said you could go through my shit, huh?”

“Just lemme see, will ya?” he said, scanning it over. “You’d think I’m reading through your diary or something.”

“I didn’t say you could look at it, so same difference.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up, but he looked amused more than anything. “Your Math homework is private now?”

“Just give it back.”

“You finished less than half of it,” Richie said with some surprise, finally allowing Eddie to take it away from him. 

“So?” Eddie bit out, vaguely embarrassed at the look Richie was giving him. Shoving the notebook into his backpack, he zipped it for good measure before tossing it to the other side of the room. “I didn’t stay that long, okay?” he lied because he’d stayed the full hour – he just couldn’t concentrate for shit. But Richie didn’t need to know that.

“Wasn’t Bill supposed to help you with it? Doesn’t look like he did much. I could’ve done it with you in ten minutes flat.” His smirk made a return appearance. “Leave more time for fun.”

Eddie averted his eyes, suddenly very aware of the late hour and Richie’s presence in his bed. There was that weird feeling again. “What I do with Bill is none of your business.”

Richie didn’t answer right away. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Since when? You always tell me everything.”

Apparently you don’t, Eddie wanted to say but swallowed the words down at the last moment. He really wanted to say them, though. He wanted to ask when it all started and if anyone else knew about it. He wanted to ask if Red’s words had anything to do with it because part of him believed that they did. Maybe the words had affected Richie more than he’d admitted to. After all, nobody wanted to be called… _that_.

Eddie didn’t ask any of it, though, because he couldn’t get himself to talk about it—not yet. It was too new, too… sensitive. The mere thought of it deepened the ache in his chest, making him want to stay far, far away from the topic. 

“It’s late, you should go home,” he said quietly.

“Look, Eddie, you don’t want my help, I get it. I know I’m not always a fucking delight, okay?” Richie said, ignoring his prompt. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “But I could wait for you, you know. I’ve got nothing better to do, anyway.”

Eddie had a hard time believing that. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Well, I don’t,” Eddie replied, his voice rising a notch. Why didn’t he drive Beverly home instead? It would certainly make more sense than wasting an hour of his time every day waiting around for Eddie. 

Richie eyed the lined walls again. “Let’s go see a movie tomorrow.”

Eddie blinked at the unexpected change in topic. “You mean… at the mall?”

“No, in your mom’s bedroom,” Richie said, giving him a look. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, so you should be able to get away with it, right? Just tell mommy whatever you always tell her.”

Eddie was rather reluctant to return to the mall after what happened the last time they were there together, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to Richie again. He’d always hated seeing Richie upset—despite the harsh words he often threw at him. That was just how they rolled.

“Alright, fine. We can go in the evening, she’ll be visiting around that time, anyway. I’ll leave her a note.”

Richie’s face lit up, like he didn’t expect the answer. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Will you go home now?”

Richie sunk further back into the pillow. “I don’t know… I’m pretty comfy right here. I could totally sleep right now.” 

“Jesus, can you get off my bed already?” Eddie said, retrieving a fresh set of sheets from his linen closet. “You just had to get into it, didn’t you? Now I have to change it.”

“Why? I’m really not that wet. Or dirty. Unless you count my mouth.”

In lieu of an answer, Eddie padded up to the bed and snatched the pillow from under Richie’s head—none too gently—proceeding to strip it down. 

Richie groaned as his head hit the mattress. “You’re such a Nazi.”

“We can’t all be slobs like you,” Eddie said, tossing the used cover onto the bed. He shook the clean one out a few times before stuffing the pillow into it. 

Richie screwed up his nose. “Whoa, Eds… what’s that smell? Is that seriously lavender?” He sniffed a few more times before clamping a hand over his own mouth, breaking down into muffled laughter. “Oh my God, it is. Fuck, I never even noticed before. Wait, don’t tell me… your mom stuffs lavender sachets in your closet, doesn’t she.”

“So what?” Eddie challenged heatedly. “I don’t even want to know what your sheets smell like. If it’s anything like you do, they could probably use a change, too.”

It was only meant as a jab, of course. Eddie knew perfectly well that Richie had changed his shampoo about a year before and carried with him the scent of its vanilla and honey oat essence ever since. A scent Eddie wasn’t at all averse to. 

“Ouch,” Richie huffed out, his amusement winding down to a playful smile. “I thought you liked the way I smell.”

“Actually, I have no idea what you smell like,” Eddie backtracked, feeling exposed for some odd reason. He squeezed the pillow to his chest once it was changed.

There was a pause before Richie spoke. “Come here, then,” he murmured softly.

Eddie’s arms tightened around the pillow as heat crept into his face. Was Richie suggesting what Eddie thought he was suggesting? Because that was just… wrong. If he were to breathe Richie in, he would have to get close. Too close. 

Feeling nervous all of a sudden, Eddie glanced at the clock again, although the time didn’t register in his brain. “Alright, time to go.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Richie rolled off the bed and moved towards the window – looking like he was intending to do just that. He hesitated once he got closer to it, however, sticking his hands into his pockets and looking out into the night, his back turned to Eddie. 

As ticks of silence went by, Eddie watched him intently, almost worrying that Richie was going to jump out without his shoes, hoodie or jacket. Irrational as his fear was, Eddie certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

When Richie finally turned around, there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Actually, I…”

Without finishing his thought, he walked back to the bed and proceeded to pull at the corners of the fitted sheet until it was gathered up into a ball. Snatching the clean set from Eddie’s arms, he fiddled with it awkwardly for a minute until he was able to fit it back on, while Eddie watched the scene unfold with some confusion. 

“There. That good?”

Eddie blinked, still holding onto the clean pillow. “What did you do that for?” 

“Just… you wanted to change the sheets, right?” Richie said, gesturing awkwardly towards the bed. “Now you can go back to sleep.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Um, okay… let me get your stuff, then.”

Taking a few steps towards the bathroom, he was surprised when Richie grabbed his arm, releasing it as soon as Eddie stopped to look at him. Richie pushed his hands into his pockets again. 

“Can I stay?” he blurted out after a moment, awkwardness lingering in his demeanor.

Eddie stared at him, taken aback by the startling request. His mouth felt dry as sawdust—did he ever get that drink of water? He couldn’t remember. “You mean sleep? Here?”

Richie nodded, keeping his eyes on the carpet while scuffing at it with his sock. “It’s raining pretty hard, so… might be easier. Just for tonight.”

Eddie looked out the window, realizing that he’d failed to notice the rain had intensified into a streaming downpour that was now slashing at the window like somebody had cut a slice out of the sky. Oh God.

“But—my mom,” he said, feeling his hands grow cold yet knowing it had nothing to do with his mother. “She’s usually up early on Saturdays.”

Richie nodded. “I’ll make sure I’m gone by then.”

Eddie hesitated again. “What about your contacts? You can’t sleep with them in.”

Richie shrugged. “Not like I haven’t before. It’s fine for one night.”

Eddie shifted his weight, the nervous feeling in his gut solidifying into a knot. Almost subconsciously, his eyes darted to the freshly changed bed. “Where will you sleep?”

Richie didn’t follow his gaze. “Floor?”

Eddie swallowed thickly past his dry throat, weighing the situation. If Richie went out now, he would still have to get back to his car before he got any cover, which was a few minutes away even at a run. He’d be soaking wet by the time he got to it and knowing Richie—he’d probably sleep in those same clothes, too. Eddie could give him an umbrella, but that was somewhere downstairs and he didn’t really want to go searching for it and risk waking his mother.

Did he even have a fucking choice?

“Okay,” he agreed at length, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He tossed the pillow onto the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Locking himself up in the bathroom, Eddie gulped down two glasses of water straight, his queasiness returning with a rolling wave. He picked up his toothbrush and started brushing his teeth for no reason at all apart from the need to be in there a little while longer. 

The last time Richie had slept over was when they were small kids. 

It only happened on a handful of occasions when they stayed up late and accidentally fell asleep while lazing around in Eddie’s bed with their heads bent over the same comic book or listening to Richie’s Walkman with one earbud in each of their ears, until his mother woke them up early in the morning, ushering Richie to get going home. Back then, his mother was still somewhat sensible. 

Then, things started changing. As kids, they were often glued to each other in some way or another but somewhere along the way, the idea of being in the same bed with Richie or even being physically too close started feeling… weird. Wrong, somehow. 

He couldn’t really say why it felt that way. It just did. 

He’d always figured it was part of growing up. After all, two grown-up guys had no business sharing a bed together, no matter how close a friendship they had, and that was just the way things were. 

Then, years later, when his mother had developed a firm hatred for Richie (and all of his other friends)—around the second year of high school—convinced that he was a bad influence and did nothing but get Eddie into trouble, things changed again. They got hard. 

When she declared that Richie wasn’t returning to her house, Richie didn’t take it well. It was around that time that he’d discovered the ‘back door’ entry to Eddie’s bedroom and Eddie started making up excuses for when he hung out with Richie outside of school, and the sneaking around started. They didn’t see as much of each other as before, but it was better than nothing. And it worked out for them just fine for a long time.

Now—things were changing yet again. Eddie didn’t want them to because every time they changed he felt like he’d lost something, but in his heart he knew they were. 

After all… they couldn’t go on doing this forever.

By the time Eddie returned to the room, his gums were stinging. 

Richie was slouched low in his desk chair, using his foot to swivel himself around from side to side, Walkman held tightly in his hand. Upon seeing Eddie, he pulled the buds out of his ears and sat up straighter with a faintly apprehensive look on his face, as though he was expecting that Eddie had changed his mind and was about to tell him off. He must have been in the bathroom for quite a long time.

Without a word, Eddie pulled out his thick woolen comforter from the linen closet and spread it out on the floor, leaving as much space between it and the bed as he could without being obvious. 

“Why didn’t you bring your umbrella?” he asked just to break the awkward tension. It didn’t really matter now, anyway.

“It wasn’t raining when I came,” Richie mumbled, sounding oddly sheepish. “It’s not like I did it on purpose… It was only cause I saw the lights go on that I even—” Cutting himself off abruptly with a strange expression on his face, Richie got up and dropped himself down onto the blanket, keeping his head down as he smoothed out all the wrinkles. “This is good, thanks.”

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Eddie slid into his bed quietly, pulled up the covers, and turned off the bed lamp. 

Fuck. So it was guilt, after all.

He couldn’t understand Richie sometimes. What on Earth had he hoped to accomplish by standing under Eddie’s window in the rain? Why didn’t he just go back home once he saw that the lights were out? It didn’t make any fucking sense. He could be such a stupid idiot sometimes. 

In the deafening silence, Eddie’s own remorse reared its ugly head like the proverbial monster under the bed. 

He should have handled it all better. He should have… talked to Richie about it right from the start—told him it was okay. Why did he have to be so goddamn screwed up? All of this was his fault. If Richie got sick from standing in the cold rain… 

“Eddie…” Richie’s whisper called out over his thoughts.

Eddie could only make a soft, questioning grunt in his throat, not trusting himself to speak. 

“You know you can ask me anything… right?”

Eddie was still thinking of the right answer when a rumble of thunder rolled through, followed by a flicker of light from the window—distant lightening, maybe—that cast a sinister shadow onto the whitewash of the ceiling, triggering an inexplicable dread in the pit of his gut. 

His breath stuck in his throat as an ominous echo drifted up from his subconscious, flooding him with the exhumed impression of the nightmare he had all but forgotten. 

_Eddie, join us. You’ll float down here. We all float down here._

Horrified, he tried to take a deep breath but it wouldn’t come—his lungs were frozen and there was a steel band constricting his chest, pushing against his hammering heart. 

Fucking hell.

_Deep breaths, Eddie. Deep breaths,_ the soothing voice of the emergency nurse reached out to him from a distant memory. _It’s all in your head._

And he tried—again and again—but all he could manage was a series of short breaths taken in rapid succession that quickly spiralled into a hyperventilating rhythm. 

Oh, God. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Eds, you okay?”

At Richie’s concerned tone, something inside Eddie snapped. He didn’t want Richie to see him like this. He hadn’t had a panic attack in front of him for so long. It made him feel so… weak. Pitiful. He just wanted it to go away. 

Fumbling to pull the drawer of the nightstand open, he brought the aspirator to his mouth and inhaled deeply like his life depended on it. 

Once. Twice. Like magic, relief followed only moments later.

“Eddie…”

Eddie dropped back to the pillow, a pleasant burning in the back of his throat. Finally able to draw air into his lungs, he cocooned himself tightly into his warm covers as though the comfort they provided could protect him from the shadows lurking in his head.

“Go to sleep,” he said hoarsely, shutting his eyes.

~

_“Eddie… Eddie, join us.”_

_Eddie’s eyes opened slowly. A hazy mist covered everything. Distant shadows shifted from side to side, like blades of grass in the wind. They scared him._

_His mouth felt numb. He’d forgotten how to use it. He tried anyway._

_The shadows moved in on him._

_He took a step back, but his legs didn’t listen to him. He fell. His back grew cold and damp._

_Grey water. Its filthy stench choked him._

_He panicked and struggled against it; mouth gasping, hands clawing, eyes frozen wide._

_Cold hands reached for him from the depths, pulling him further under._

_He sunk. Deeper and deeper, until there was nothing left but the shadows looming all around him. Through the encompassing veil of darkness, his hideous, distorted self was staring back at him._

_“You’ll float down here. We all float down here.”_

_Filthy. Cold. Alone._

_Eddie’s stomach lurched. He recoiled violently—_

—and bolted upright in his bed, eyes wide open, breath coming in wheezing spurts. He darted his eyes around for a single wild moment, cataloguing the familiar surroundings. His bedroom. He was in his bedroom.

The bed creaked beneath his weight as he dropped his head into his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees, sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. The tremors faded slowly as the intensity of the nightmare dissipated with each second that ticked by. 

As the memory of the night’s events came crashing back, his eyes snapped to the floor, realizing the comforter was no longer there. Neither was Richie.

Jumping out of bed, Eddie ran to the open window and scanned the yard intently as though expecting to find Richie there. The sun was only just rising over the horizon into a clear blue sky, its blood-red beams making him squint. The ground was still thoroughly wet, droplets of water gleaming on every surface.

“Hey.”

Flipping around, Eddie found Richie standing by the bathroom door, shoes and leather jacket in his hands. His curls were loose and brushed back messily like he’d tried to comb through them with his fingers.

“Did I wake you? Sorry.” 

Eddie shook his head, relaxing slightly upon realizing Richie didn’t witness his rather embarrassing awakening. “Did you sleep okay? I can’t imagine that was very comfortable.”

“I’ve slept on floors before,” Richie answered, shrugging into his jacket. He furrowed an eyebrow. “How about you? You look kind of ashy or something.”

“Still tired, I guess,” Eddie mumbled for lack of anything better to say. He didn’t feel tired at all—if anything, he’d slept more than enough.

Richie looked dubious but didn’t question him. He bent down to tie his shoes. “So… I’ll wait for you around seven? That okay? We can just pick whatever’s playing ‘round that time.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

Once Richie was done, he straightened up to look at him. “Hey—”

The harsh ringing of the telephone blaring through the wall cut him short, making Eddie jump. No more than a few moments later, a pair of heavy footsteps stumped down the hallway.

Rushing past Eddie, Richie swung out of the window in one swift motion and made his way down the brick wall, dropping into the bed of pebbles below under Eddie’s watchful gaze.

Glancing up to meet Eddie’s eyes, he quirked the corner of his lips in a half-smile and mouthed, “See ya,” before disappearing around the corner.

Propping his hands against the window sill, Eddie inhaled the fresh morning breeze, examining the opulent purple lilac blooms on the shrubs below. He’d always loved the saccharine smell of lilac. It was too bad they didn’t last all that long. Like all good things.

He was still surveying the yard when a familiar voice startled him. 

“Eddie, don’t you hear me?” 

He jerked, turning around to face his mother standing in the door frame. “Uh, what?” 

She eyed him with concern with her hands resting on her hips. “You’re pale. Do you have a fever?” Crossing the room, she pressed her clammy hand above his brow. 

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Mom,” Eddie muttered, the words so practiced they came reflexively. “Who was calling?” he diverted, pulling away from the touch.

“Mrs. Spencer,” his mother replied, giving his room a cursory glance. Her eyes fixed on something by his desk, prompting Eddie to follow her gaze. “Did you get cold at night?”

The back of Eddie’s neck grew warm as he realized Richie had folded the comforter over the desk chair. Fuck. How could he have missed that?

“My window was open, so yeah… a bit.”

“Why didn’t you close it?”

“I was tired, I didn’t realize… I just saw it was open now.”

“I’m getting the thermometer,” his mother said in a tone that didn’t leave room for a dispute. When she returned a minute later, she passed it to him in a silent command. “Marge was asking if we could drop in for a visit soon. Her niece from out of town will be staying with her for a few weeks and she was thinking it might be nice for you to meet. Her mother has been ill, the poor dear, it just breaks my heart.”

Eddie’s lips tightened around the hard edges of the thermometer. When it finally beeped, he passed it back to her, more intent on her words than the result. “Why do I have to go? I don’t really want to meet her niece.”

Satisfied with the number blinking on the display, his mother moved past him to close the window. “She’s around your age and from what I understand – she is a lovely young lady. Marge said she’s first in all her classes. It’s too bad she has to miss school like this.”

At her words, Eddie felt himself growing annoyed. Not this again. 

“Mom,” he said, his tone almost pleading. “I don’t… You agreed not to do this.”

“Do what, sweetie?”

“This… this—” Meddling. “—mother stuff. I don’t really want to… meet anyone.”

“Mother stuff? Eddie, I am your mother, nothing will ever change that. I only do what I do because I care about you,” she said pointedly, locking their gazes. “You know that, right? Besides, we’re only going for a visit. What’s wrong with meeting someone new? You’re always going out by yourself or sitting alone in your room. You’re young… you need some new people in your life.”

Eddie remained silent, no good argument forthcoming—none that wouldn’t expose his lies, anyway. He felt cornered. 

His mother clasped his hand between hers, her long nails digging into his skin. “I just want to help you find someone who is… right for you. You haven’t always made the best choices for yourself, Eddie—like those awful children you used to know. I know you can do better than that but you’re not trying.”

“Mom…”

“Do you really want to be alone for the rest of your life?”

“No,” Eddie said after a few beats, chest tightening. He averted his eyes from her piercing stare. 

“Then there’s nothing to discuss, is there,” she said, patting his cheek. “Come on down after you’ve taken a shower. I made pancakes.”

Eddie had never been less hungry in his life.

~

The following Saturday, Eddie managed to call Bill while his mother was out shopping to confirm the details of his pick-up. Bill answered on the third ring, sounding fairly chipper. Eddie could relate. After an entire week of eager planning for their outing at the Barrens, he was pretty damn excited about it, which was rare for him.

“Hey, it’s me… Everything still okay for tonight?”

“Yep,” Bill confirmed enthusiastically. “Seven Eleven—just after 7 PM, right?”

“Perfect.” 

He’d estimated it to be the best time. His mother usually retreated to the living room to watch her favourite evening show around that time, so she was bound to be too distracted to ask too many questions. He probably wouldn’t be able to stay out as long as the others, but it was better than nothing. If he came back late, he could always make something else up.

“What are you telling your mom?”

“That I’m going out to see a movie.” It was the only excuse that really worked for a Saturday night. He’d been overusing it lately, but his mother knew he liked going to the movies so she didn’t seem to question it.

“What if she offers to drive you?”

Eddie did consider that. “The mall’s not that far, she knows I prefer to walk… good thing the weather’s nice.”

“I know, right? We got lucky.” Bill gave a small chuckle, adding, “Richie said he might take a dip… I reminded him it’s still March and the water can’t be all that warm, but okay. Knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“He called you?”

“Yeah, just earlier. He was just checking that you’re still coming with me. He offered to pick you up instead, but I think Bev’s already at his place—they’re working on some project or something, so I told him to leave it. They’ll just meet us there after seven.”

Project. Right. Eddie could only guess what they were actually doing. “I’d rather ride with you, anyway.”

“Why? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No, just… for variety, I guess,” Eddie said evasively. “Hey, thanks for helping me out this week. I think I might have actually shocked Stiles for once.”

“Glad I could help… See, I knew you could do it.” Eddie could almost hear the smile in Bill’s voice, he sounded so proud of him. “I’m sure you’ll do fine on the mid-terms.”

Eddie allowed himself a small smile, too. It did feel good to do well. “Thanks.”

“So I’ll see you tonight?”

“Okay. Oh, hey,” Eddie added quickly before Bill could hang up. “Um… did you get Bev a gift?”

“No,” Bill replied after a moment, sounding surprised. “Where’d you get that idea? We don’t really do that, right?”

“… Right.” 

Eddie didn’t even know why he asked. It only made sense that Richie got her one since they were… together. He didn’t know why but he still itched to know what it was. 

“I’ll see you after seven,” Bill said again. “I’m picking everyone else up first so just wait for us if we’re running late.”

“’K, see you.”

~

Later in the evening, Eddie finished his supper in record time and went upstairs to lay out his clothes for the evening and jump into the shower. 

From the time of his conversation with Bill, the thought of the ‘project’ Richie and Beverly were working on hadn’t left his mind once. He hated himself for it, but he just couldn’t stop picking it apart in his mind. By the time his mother had called him into the kitchen for supper, he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t going to let it ruin his evening because it really shouldn’t bother him at all, but… he still couldn’t stop feeling nervous about it. 

The thought of them together laced his feelings of excitement for the outing with a needling apprehension—what if he caught them kissing again? What if Richie spent most of his time paying attention to her, leaving Eddie to sit by himself on the side? It was in celebration of her birthday, after all, so it would only make sense for him to do so. Eddie still hadn’t talked to him about it, hadn’t… _acknowledged_ knowing about them. So… was the whole thing just going to be awkward for him?

Not knowing the answers to those questions was nerve-wracking. He simply didn’t know what to expect.

Over the course of that week, he’d tried his best to ignore the tight knot in his chest at their little interactions, but it wasn’t getting any easier to do so. If anything, it was getting harder. He didn’t know what to do about it. How did he make it go away?

Slipping into his jeans and long-sleeve V-neck sweater (in case it got colder later), Eddie made his way downstairs, rehearsing the exact words he was planning to say in his head. He could hear the TV running in the living room, the familiar voices of his mother’s favourite comedy delivering their snappy remarks, accompanied by fake audience laughter. Perfect.

When he stepped into the room, his mother was reclining heavily in her padded armchair, blowing onto her shiny red nails in-between chuckles. She must have just painted them.

“Mom?”

Taking her eyes off the screen, she glanced over him briefly. “Is that what you’re wearing, dear? How about those blue pants I got you last week? And the plaid shirt. You’re meeting someone new, so it’s better to look smart.”

Eddie blinked in confusion, the words in his head crumbling away. “… What?”

His mother didn’t answer right away, her eyes glued to the screen. She gave a little laugh that sounded like a series of snorts at something that was being said before looking over at him again. “What is it? Don’t waste time, we’re leaving soon.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold. “Leaving? Leaving where? I was… I was going to go to the movies.” 

His words finally got him her full attention. She stopped blowing on her nails, her manner cooling. “Don’t play games with me, Eddie. I’m not in the mood. We’re going for a visit with the Spencers, whether you want to or not. You just saw a movie last weekend, you can go another day.”

Eddie’s mouth nearly dropped open. He stared at her stupidly, as though someone had just given him a hard blow to the head. “Now?! Tonight? You—you didn’t tell me.”

Her impassive expression didn’t waver. “I told you about it a few days ago.”

“No, you didn’t!” he nearly shouted, unable to keep his voice level. She couldn’t have. He wouldn’t forget something like that. “I can’t go tonight, Mom!”

His mother’s eyes grew colder. Moving her chair back into a straight position, she picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Bad fucking sign. Eddie nearly choked on the hard lump stuck in his throat, flooded with dread. This wasn’t happening. It just wasn’t. How could she do this to him?

“I’m going to go slip into my dress and grab the cake from the fridge,” she said, a warning underlying the firmness of her tone. “I expect you to be changed and ready by the time I come back.”

Eddie’s breathed through his nose in anger, watching her go upstairs. His mind worked frantically to figure out some way—any way of twisting himself out of it, but he knew the battle had already been lost. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The word replayed itself over and over in his head, begging to be paired with the appropriate pronoun, but Eddie couldn’t get himself to say it, not even in the privacy of his own thoughts. If he could, he would scream it to her face. 

He wanted to leave. Slam the fucking door. Never come back. 

_You’d have to chop the umbilical cord first._

Richie’s words came back to him like a taunt, spoken in jest, but rooted in undeniable reality. Even after Eddie had smartened up to what she had been doing to him for years, she still had power over him. She could still do this shit to him—and he still let her. He couldn’t go against her, couldn’t leave her. Something inside of him couldn’t let go. She was the only parent he had left, and any kind of parent was better than no parent. 

At least that’s what he’d always told himself. At that very moment, he felt ready to chuck that sentiment right out the window.

Overcome with his long-repressed feelings of loathing at the control she had over him, he curled his shaking fists, getting an irresistible urge to throw something just to see it break. His eyes fell on her porcelain doll collection in the display case at the opposite side of the room. Fuck, he wanted to smash them all into a million pieces. 

Hearing the door to her bedroom opening, he shot up the stairs and into his room, changing his clothes with jerky, bitter movements. He had no control over his life. None. It was fucking pitiful. He couldn’t even warn Bill. Who knows how long he’d be waiting before he realized Eddie wasn’t coming? 

Prompted to check the alarm clock before going down, he swore under his breath. Fifteen past seven. Fuck. Bill was probably already waiting.

When he returned downstairs, his mother was squeezing into her shoes, holding the string to a white cake box in her hand. He kept expressly quiet as he slipped into his shoes and pushed past her out into the street.

By the time they’d arrived at the Spencers’ house, Eddie’s anger had devolved into a deep sense of sorrow. All he could do was feel sorry for himself.

One day, he was going to cut that fucking cord. One day.


	5. Chapter 5

When they finally returned home, it was well after dark. 

His mother gave him a firm kiss on the cheek and disappeared into her bedroom, shutting the door tightly, it being well past her usual bedtime. 

Eddie dropped into the comfort of his own bed like a drowning man grabbed onto a lifesaver, the relief of being back home soothing his jangled nerves. 

The visit had been a disaster, of course. 

This was his second time visiting the Spencers and the presence of their niece—Allison—didn’t improve the experience one bit. If anything, it made it worse. Much worse. 

As it turned out, Allison had about as much interest in meeting him as he had in meeting her, which came as no big surprise to Eddie. He’d never been very popular with girls and really, he was fine with that—especially if they were anything like her. Allison was blonde, pudgy, conceited and _taller_ than him despite the fact that she was one year behind. In short, the exact picture of Eddie’s worst nightmare. 

She vaguely reminded him of the pharmacist owner’s daughter that had written some bullshit on his cast when he’d broken his arm years back. He still couldn’t believe how naïve he was back then. He’d actually thought the girl liked him.

This time around, it was clear to him right away that Allison harboured an intense dislike for him from the moment she set her squinty little eyes on him. Her face turned a sort of sour, pinched expression that someone might have when there was something foul under their nose, which returned every time she was forced to acknowledge his existence—mostly during the second half of the evening when they were asked to join the adults at the dining room table for cake. 

For the first part of the evening, Allison ignored his presence altogether while they watched TV crammed into opposite ends of a small couch, waiting for the adults to finish gossiping in the adjoining room. They were supposed to be getting ‘acquainted’, but the only thing Eddie had learned about her during those two long hours was that she had horrible taste in TV shows.

When she finally spoke to him later in the evening at her aunt’s prompt (‘Don’t be shy, dear!’), she spouted such boring nonsense that Eddie wished she’d never opened her mouth at all. He shut out most of it, nodding along with whatever she was saying while making the requisite effort to appear terribly interested (for his mother’s sake, who was watching him like a hawk), all the while feeling like he was ready to shoot himself in the head. 

And all those stupid, mundane questions from her aunt—questions he was certain he’d answered the previous time around. Did she even care about this shit? All she got were lies, anyway.

Did he like attending Derry High? Yes, he did. How were his grades? Pretty good. Did he know what he was going to do after graduating? No, he didn’t. 

On and on it went late into the night until the cake was finished, the tea kettle spent, and his energy thoroughly depleted. 

Dragging himself out of bed just long enough to brush his teeth and change his clothes, he finally slipped under his covers and wrapped his arms up around the pillow, inhaling the faint scent of lavender that was so pleasantly familiar. The others must have had so much fun. He wondered if they even missed him. If Richie missed him… 

Just as he was about to turn off the light—

Tap.

Eddie was up and at the window within seconds. The tall figure by the shrubs stepped out into the light of the street lamp as soon as he leaned out over the sill.

“Richie,” Eddie murmured under his breath with a surge of excitement. After the horrible night he’d endured, Richie’s face was like the vision of dawn amidst infinite darkness. 

“Hey,” Richie said, voice soft. “Can I come up?”

“Actually, uh… I’ll come down,” Eddie said after a moment, deciding it was probably better that way. At Richie’s questioning look, he added, “I could use the fresh air. Just wait for me in the front, I’ll be there in a few.”

Changing quickly into the same jeans and V-neck sweater he had originally intended on wearing that evening, Eddie sneaked out into the hallway, casting a quick glance at his mother’s bedroom door. Satisfied that her lights were out, he made his way out of the house, heart drumming rapidly in his chest.

Checking right and left down the street, he spotted Richie leaning against a large oak tree across the road, a few houses down. Despite the fact that his face lit up considerably upon seeing him, Eddie was surprised to find that he didn’t look nearly as lively as Eddie would have expected him to be after a fun night out with their friends. 

“Let’s walk,” Eddie said upon approaching him, nodding in the direction of the Seven Eleven. Once they fell into step together, Eddie peered at his face again, slightly concerned at the absence of the usual cheerful grin. “How did it go?”

“It was okay,” Richie said simply with a shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What happened? Bill said he saw your mom’s car drive by… so he kind of figured you weren’t coming when you didn’t show up.”

“So he didn’t wait long,” Eddie said with relief. He hadn’t even thought of that. Trust Bill to figure something like that out. “She insisted I go somewhere with her. It was really stupid.”

“Go where?”

Eddie hesitated before answering. “Some friends of hers. She wanted me to meet their niece or something, I don’t know. Did you guys find that spot Bill was talking about?” Feeling Richie’s hand pulling on his arm, he stopped and turned to look at him in confusion. “What?”

Richie’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed. “You went to meet some girl instead of hanging out with us?”

“It’s not like I had a choice. You know my mom—there was nothing I could say to get out of it.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say. When are you going to start making your own damn choices? It’s your life, you know.”

“Richie… I’m so not discussing that right now,” Eddie said with a touch of annoyance in his tone. “If that’s all you have to say, I’m going back in.” 

Realizing Richie’s fingers were still curled around his arm, he pulled away from them. It was easy for Richie to say ‘make your own choices’ when his own parents were nothing like his mother. They were… kind and understanding. They actually cared about what he wanted or didn’t want. Richie couldn’t possibly understand what it was like living with a strict, controlling parent that could only accept her way as the right way.

“Was she pretty?”

“What?” Eddie asked in confusion.

“This girl of yours. Was she hot? I mean—were you into her?”

“Fuck, no,” Eddie said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “Can we move on now?” He waved at the road ahead of them for emphasis, although that wasn’t all he meant.

“So… are you going to see her again?” Richie asked once they started walking again.

“I don’t know, okay?” Eddie shot back out of pure annoyance, although he was certainly not intending to see her again—not if he could help it. He just really didn’t want to talk about her. “Did you guys make a fire?”

Richie didn’t answer right away. “I guess. I kinda liked that new place Bill took us to, the one he found with his girlfriend… it has lots of space. Too bad she didn’t make it, could have been fun.” He paused before adding with what sounded like forced cheerfulness, “Hey, maybe you can bring your new girlfriend next time and we’ll have ourselves a good old-fashioned orgy—like the Romans. Bonus points if she looks like your mom.”

This time, it was Eddie’s turn to stop. He glared at Richie before turning back towards his house, fully intending to go back in. “I’m not in the mood for this.” 

“Eddie, wait.” Richie’s soft, apologetic voice made Eddie halt his movement. “Don’t go. Please. I… missed you today. I mean—everyone did. It wasn’t the same without you.”

Eddie felt his annoyance melt away, replaced by something warm and fluttery in the pit of his gut. He turned to him. “I’ll stay if you cut the bullshit.”

“Okay, alright… geez, you’re such a Grump. I’ll just tell you about the trail we took, okay? Ben and I had this really stupid bet. Come on,” Richie coaxed, taking on his most innocent look. He darted a quick glance towards the gas station. “We can get some Slushies. There’s nothing like a midnight sugar rush.” 

Swayed, Eddie joined his side and they resumed their walk while Richie recounted some of the events of the evening in an animated manner. He could be the best story-teller when he wanted to be—that was to say, when he tapered down the trash talk—and by the time they were walking back with a pair of cherry Slushies in their hands, Eddie found himself chuckling along with the story, thoroughly amused. Richie could make nearly anything sound funny, even if it really wasn’t. It was one of the things Eddie really liked about him.

“Sorry I missed it,” he said once Richie went quiet for some time to slurp on his Slushie. They were sitting on the sidewalk border under the oak tree, their shoulders nearly touching. Eddie didn’t know what time it was and he didn’t really care. “Sounds like it was a good time. I’m sure Bev was happy.”

“Pretty sure she was.”

“I’ll have to wish her a happy birthday on Monday,” he mumbled, almost to himself. He paused before adding, “Did she like her gift, by the way?” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He hadn’t really planned on saying them, they just came out. As he awaited Richie’s answer, the nagging feeling in his chest returned, dampening his good mood somewhat. 

Richie stopped slurping for a while before he responded. “I think so.”

“What was it?” Oh, fucking hell.

He heard Richie sigh quietly beside him. He was probably regretting buying it in front of him now. “It was nothing, really… just—a reminder, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“Well…” Richie started, sounding just a little uncomfortable. “Bev’s kind of like this free spirit that’s locked in a cage right now, you know? She’s got it tough with her dad and all, but I know she’ll get out of here someday and make a better life for herself. She always told me she wants to run towards something, not away from something. I just wanted to remind her that she can, she’s strong enough…” Richie wavered, turning towards him slightly. “Eddie, listen—”

“You’re right,” Eddie cut him off because he really didn’t want to listen anymore. “Bev is really great. Any guy would be lucky to have her.”

There was a pause. “I don’t get you sometimes,” Richie murmured quietly like he did so many days before at the mall. 

Sometimes Eddie didn’t get himself, but he wasn’t going to talk about that. He switched the large Slushie cup to his left hand, rubbing his right against his thigh. 

“Cold?” Richie asked, taking the cup from him and placing it on the ground along with his own. “Here, let me.” 

Before Eddie could protest, Richie took his hand between his own and rubbed gently. “Better?”

Taken aback at the sudden contact of skin, Eddie felt a spark of tension stiffen his muscles. Richie’s hands were just as cold as his own at first, but gradually got warmer as they moved against Eddie’s, sending an unnerving chill up his spine. 

“Why are you always so tense? My hands are clean, I promise,” Richie said in a teasing tone. He grinned before adding, “I only touched my dick once today and that was hours ago.”

“Ugh!” Eddie exclaimed, snatching his hand away. “What the actual fuck, Richie!”

Richie caught it again before it went too far, laughing softly. “Okay, okay, forget what I said, I haven’t touched my dick all year, ya happy? Geez.”

“Not funny, asshole.”

“See what I mean, though?”

Before long, something about Richie’s demeanor changed, almost imperceptibly but still there—like a slight shift in the air that surrounded them. It struck Eddie as keenly as the sense of danger one got whilst walking along a dark alley at night.

The slide of Richie’s fingers slowed down and softened, almost as though they were mapping the back of his hand, growing warmer by the moment. Their heat quickly crept up Eddie’s arm, prompting him to firmly pull out of Richie’s hold on him. 

When Richie didn’t immediately release, the back of Eddie’s neck grew uncomfortably warm. All of a sudden, he felt really nervous. “It’s good now,” he said quickly, attempting to retrieve it again. “It’s late, I should go back in.”

Richie’s hold on him faltered. “… I’ll come again tomorrow.”

Freeing himself, Eddie stood up. “Actually, I’m going to be busy tomorrow, so… I’ll just see you on Monday, okay?”

He tried his best to keep a steady pace while crossing the street when, really, he felt like breaking into a run.

He didn’t fall asleep until much later. He blamed it on the sugar. 

~

Half-way through the study hour at the library on Monday afternoon, Eddie slumped back into his chair and groaned. “I need a break. This is killing me.”

After a moment, Bill leaned over and scanned the solution scribbled out in his notebook. “You’re doing it wrong again, you need to subtract this first. You’re not paying attention… hold on just a minute and I’ll help you.”

“Just—let me take a quick break, okay?” Eddie said as he got up, arching into a full-body stretch. He felt too tired for this shit today. He’d woken up to the aftereffects of the same weird dream again that morning and he was getting sick of it. Why did it keep coming back? “I’m going to go stretch my legs for a bit.”

At Bill’s confirming grunt, he walked out quickly, uncomfortable as always with the librarian’s watchful gaze. She peered at him over her glasses same as she did every day – in that distrustful sort of way someone might watch a suspicious character, half-expecting them to steal or break something. Good thing Bill usually sat at the very back behind the bookshelves, otherwise she’d probably just stare at him the entire time.

Deciding on touring the school a couple of times, Eddie started for the other end of the hallway, then took the stairs up to the second floor, hastening his step as he passed by the Physics lab. As he walked up to the large windows spanning the entire wall mid-way that provided an unobstructed view of the entire parking lot, he halted his step to give it a cursory survey, searching for something he knew wasn’t there.

The truth was… he missed riding home with Richie, too. Old habits died hard.

Richie had been driving him back and forth for a couple of years already, ever since his parents got him the Chevy second-hand for his 16th birthday. It didn’t come easily. It took Richie a full year of pleading and an entire summer of hard work to finally get it, but he did. 

He’d made a deal with his parents to finish all the landscaping work for their new house in return for it, which he’d actually done a pretty good job with, considering that he hated to get his hands dirty about as much as Eddie did. Eddie visited him nearly every day that summer, bringing him cold drinks and watching him work for hours every day in the burning heat of the sun, radio blaring, while Eddie sat in the shade and read out funny tidbits from comics and magazines to keep him entertained. He’d tried to help, too, but Richie wouldn’t have it, claiming it was his job to get done. 

Once the school year started, he’d surprised Eddie by offering to drive him every day. Eddie was reluctant to accept at first, seeing how it was around that same time that his mother started actively condemning their friendship and things were already becoming difficult, but… Richie found a way to make it work. He made a plan, figured out all the details, smoothed out the wrinkles. Always did, when it came to Eddie. Never accepted any money for gas, either.

Despite his stupid trash mouth, Richie was the best friend anyone could ask for. Eddie, on the other hand… 

When Eddie returned to the library—feeling a fair bit lousier—most of the tables had emptied and the librarian was sipping tea in the back room, leafing through a newspaper. Eddie rushed to the back before she could see him, finding Bill absent. Probably bathroom, he thought to himself, dropping back into his seat.

It took him a few moments to spot it, camouflaged as it was by the white pages of his notebook.

… The fuck?

Straightening up abruptly to yank the notebook closer to himself, he gaped at the strange object on top of it in open confusion. Barely two inches tall, it looked like some sort of bird folded out of white paper. What the hell—

“What’s that?”

Eddie’s head snapped up as Bill approached, his equally puzzled gaze fixed on his notebook. “Fuck if I know. Did you leave this here?”

Bill gave him a look. “Yeah right? Why would I do that?”

“Then how did it get here?” Eddie hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “What is it, even?”

Bill carefully picked it up by its tail and narrowed his eyes, observing it from all angles. It was so small, it only took his thumb and index finger to grasp it. “Kind of looks like—shit, what are they called again. Origami, I think? I saw it in a documentary once… it’s like an old Japanese art.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “So what the fuck is it doing on top of my notebook?”

Bill could only shrug. “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there when I went to the bathroom.”

“How long were you gone for?” Eddie asked frantically. “This thing didn’t just fly itself over here.”

“Um… the usual time?” Bill said slowly, looking at him funny. “Five minutes, I guess?”

“So someone…” Fuck. 

“—left it here while we were gone. Yes.” 

On reflex, Eddie whirled round to check out the surrounding area as though the culprit could still be lurking around somewhere. Finding the back of the library completely empty, he took a few steps to peer around the bookshelves. There were only a few people left in the front—the regulars, the nerds that always had their noses buried in some book or other and couldn’t possibly be responsible for this… thing. 

The thought of Red leaving it there just to fuck with him did cross his mind—for less than a second. Despite the fact that he haunted Eddie’s steps around school far more than usual, this wasn’t really his style at all. Plus, Eddie was fairly sure Red had never set foot in the library in all of their four years there. He wasn’t exactly the studious type. 

Eddie shook his head, feeling lost. It didn’t even fit the parameters of your every-day prank, really. “I don’t get it.”

Bill set the figurine back down, contemplating it. “It’s folded so precisely… I’m impressed. Looks like a swan, right?”

Eddie scowled at it. “It’s fucking stupid, is what it is,” he grumbled, almost petulant in his manner.

“You know, someone put a lot of effort into this,” Bill pointed out before the corners of his lips pulled up slightly. “I think… you’ve got an admirer.”

“What?” Eddie exclaimed, following it up with an embarrassed huff at the touch of heat rising in his face. “That’s bullshit.”

Bill raised his eyebrows at him. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

Eddie was immediately inclined to say ‘Yes’ because no one had ever expressed that kind of interest in him before. Not ever. “I’m tossing it,” he said instead.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie retorted edgily, although it most certainly did. “I just don’t like people fucking with me.”

“I really don’t think that’s what this is. It’s too… thoughtful. I mean—unless there is some crazy person going around and randomly dropping these all over school… someone followed you here and waited until we were both gone to leave it here. That takes dedication, right?”

“So where the fuck are they?” Eddie almost snapped, waving his hand around. “And why—”

He stopped short when someone called out to them. Seeing Beverly approaching, Eddie swiftly swept the figurine into the front pocket of his backpack. He didn’t need any more comments on the fucking thing. If Beverly found out about it, she was bound to tell Richie, and shit—Eddie would never hear the end of it. The fewer people knew about it, the better.

Bev looked between them curiously, a large reference book clutched in her hands. “What’s up? What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said quickly, shooting Bill a covert glance to go along with it. “What are you doing here? It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“I had to see one of my teachers about something,” she said, shrugging. “Just came by to check on you guys before leaving. Are you almost done?”

“Um, yeah,” Eddie said as he started to pack up his stuff, his movements somewhat erratic.

Bill pointed to his notebook. “What about…”

“We can do it tomorrow,” Eddie muttered, zipping up his backpack. “I’m done here.”

“I can give you a ride home, I’ve got my dad’s truck,” Bill offered, checking his wrist watch. “I’m okay to leave now, I’m going to go see Annie anyway.”

Eddie shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll walk.”

“Bev?”

Bev beamed at him. “Sure, thanks. Walking alone every day isn’t all that fun.” 

Eddie couldn’t agree more, although the fact that she continued walking home alone did surprise him somewhat. He was fully expecting Richie would start driving her home instead now that he was no longer driving Eddie.

Leaving them behind with a quick farewell, he went straight home. When he arrived, he found his mother in the living room with the phone receiver in one hand and the vacuum hose in the other. Tufts of her light hair stuck out of a patterned kerchief she wrapped around her head for when she cleaned the house. 

Waving him over upon seeing him, she passed him the receiver, indicating that Mrs. Spencer wanted to have a word with him. Eddie had nothing to talk to her about, but he couldn’t as well say no.

The conversation was quick and to the point. 

Did he enjoy his visit with them? Yes, he did. She was told he liked going to the movies, was that right? Yes, it was. Could he please do her a kind favour? He could try. Could he please take Allison with him Friday evening? She’d been so cooped up, having no friends in Derry—

Eddie faltered before answering the final question, darting his eyes wildly to his mother, whose calculating look told him she knew exactly what was being asked of him.

Under the intensity of her expectant look, Eddie forced himself to agree. 

What else could he fucking do?

~

That Thursday morning, Eddie came up to Seven Eleven fifteen minutes late. 

His mother hadn’t relented in making him finish his entire breakfast before leaving, and Eddie hated egg salad on toast. He was mostly relieved to find the Chevy absent from its usual spot. At least Richie had listened for once. 

When he made it to school, however, Richie’s car was missing from that parking lot as well. With a sinking feeling, Eddie rushed to find Bill before the bell rang.

He found him sitting at his desk in the English classroom, engaged in a hushed discussion with Stan. Getting his attention, Eddie waved for him to come out, wary of the teacher that was already standing at the chalkboard, drawing up some schematics.

“Have you seen Richie?” Eddie asked, darting a glance at Stan, who was watching them from his seat. “His car is missing.”

Bill didn’t look surprised. “I was going to tell you at lunch, he called me last night. He wanted me to tell you he’s staying home for the rest of the week.”

“Did he say why?”

“No… he just said not to worry.”

“Right. Okay, thanks.”

Dropping his backpack into his locker, Eddie left the building without even bothering to sign himself out, the image of Richie standing in the rain under his window accompanying him all the way out, stirring up his guilt. 

Ten minutes later, he was standing in front of Richie’s house, slightly out of breath. He’d started out slowly enough, but gradually quickened his pace to a light jog, fueled by a colourful variety of worse-case scenarios that his mind dredged up along the way. 

Richie’s car was the only one parked in the driveway, which Eddie took as a good sign. If he was really sick, surely one of his parents would have stayed home with him. Right?

He surveyed the house for a while, waiting for his breathing to return to normal before going up to the front door. The last time he came up to Richie’s place there was still snow on the ground, and the front yard looked rather different now with its fragrant tulip beds and whimsical spring decor. His parents moved to a larger, newer house several years back, once his father’s practice picked up. It was around that same time that Richie switched out his glasses for contacts and started wearing different kinds of clothes, which okay—were a step up from his cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts, but didn’t come with any kind of improvement in his delightful personality. If anything, Eddie found him to be even more annoying afterwards. 

Richie answered the door after the second ring. His hair was an odd mess, the sweep of curly bangs across the right side of his face concealing what initially looked like a light shadow underneath.

Once it became clear what he was actually seeing, the bottom of Eddie’s stomach dropped out. “Oh, fuck.” 

Upon seeing him, Richie seemed to pale. “Eddie. What are you doing here?” 

“I thought you told me to ignore him,” Eddie said in the kind of calm manner that came just before a storm. What the fuck was Richie even doing fighting with Red? It wasn’t his goddamn problem. “That his words didn’t mean anything.”

Richie exhaled slowly before answering. “It wasn’t anything like that, okay? I don’t give a shit what he says about me. It’s—”

At Richie’s intent gaze on him, Eddie shook his head, raising his arms. “What? It’s what?”

Richie averted his eyes, face strangely impassive. “Why did you come here? I thought you hated my place.”

“So you’re just hiding in here, is that it? You weren’t going to tell me about this?”

Richie’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m not hiding. I just didn’t want you to go freaking out over it. Kinda like you’re starting to right now.”

“Fuck you, I think I’ve got a right to freak out when my best friend is getting into fights for me while holding my arm back.” Eddie instinctively clenched his fists. The longer he looked at the bruise on Richie’s face, the angrier he felt. “You shouldn’t have interfered that time at the mall… I’m going to smash his stupid face in, that fucking—ugh.” And nobody was going to stop him this time.

“The hell you are,” Richie interjected sharply, voice rising a notch. “You’re not getting involved in this, you hear me?”

“I’m already involved, dumbass! He’s done nothing but talk shit to me for like weeks now—it’s like he’s gone psycho or something. The guy’s unhinged.” 

And Eddie would have long jumped him for it if it weren’t for the fact that fighting at school resulted in certain detention—or worse, but he knew it was coming. Even without this, Eddie couldn’t bear much more of it. And if Richie actually thought Eddie was going to stand by while Richie took punches for him… “You’re not going to talk me into backing off from this. He had no business laying a hand on you.”

Richie stepped over the threshold, the tension in his face hardening into something more severe – maybe anger. “Goddamn it, Eddie, I told you this has nothing to do with you. He’s got his reasons for hating me, okay?”

“Bullshit!” Eddie exclaimed, his own tone harsh and biting. “If he hates you, it’s because you hang out with me, the laughing stock of the entire fucking school.” Entire world, more like.

“Jesus, Eddie, that’s not… that’s not true. He’s only saying those things to you because—” Faltering, Richie made a pained, exasperated grunt in his throat, bringing his hand up to scrub it over his face. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Eddie huffed in indignation. Some nerve Richie had to say that. “How typical. So you’re the only one who can invite himself over any fucking time he wants? Do the rest of us have to make an appointment?”

“Look… you just—you don’t understand, okay?”

Eddie was about to say that he understood everything just fine when a familiar ginger head popped up from behind Richie unexpectedly, calling out to him. She was wearing one of Richie’s shirts—the one he wore to Eddie’s place the night he slept over.

“Richie, what’s wrong? Who is it?” Upon spotting him, Beverly’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Oh, shit. Eddie.” She shot a quick glance at Richie, the apprehension in her face mirroring his.

The tips of Eddie’s fingers grew cold as ice as he focused his gaze on the way the oversized shirt fell off her naked shoulder, the deep ache in his chest rising sharply from the depths where he’d buried it. He felt really stupid all of a sudden. Of course she would be here. He should have realized he wasn’t needed here—he wasn’t even wanted here. Richie had someone else to worry about him now. Why had he even come? 

“I, uh—I’m going back.”

Richie made a move to grab his arm, something rising in his face. “Eddie—”

In a flash of anger, Eddie snatched his arm away just before Richie could take hold of it. “Quit fucking touching me!” 

At the shocked expression on Richie’s face, he turned around and fled at speed, not looking back once. 

~

Later that evening, Eddie was standing barefoot in the kitchen, eating crackers out of the box. 

He hadn’t felt hungry all day. He’d skipped lunch and then his supper—after convincing his mother he’d eaten something after school, who’d only conceded to it with great reluctance. He still wasn’t hungry but his stomach was churning up a protest, so he’d sneaked into the kitchen to fill himself up with crackers while his mother listened to her records in her room. He wasn’t sure he could stomach anything else. The soppy sounds of soft rock flowed from upstairs, making him feel like gagging just a little more in his dark mood. 

He’d barely sat through his classes after returning to school, itching to go in search of Red and just get it all over with. He’d looked for him during his breaks but only caught a glimpse of him at lunch from the second-floor window—smoking behind the dumpsters. Seeing how he wasn’t alone, Eddie had decided it wasn’t a good time. 

His fists had itched for it, though. Just looking at his ugly, sneering face made Eddie want to break his skull into pieces. Later, he’d excused himself from sitting with Bill at the library and made his way home, feeling sick with the whole thing.

And the other feeling in his chest… the one that cropped up every time he recalled the expanse of pale, freckled skin underneath a black, oversized t-shirt with boxed white letters at the front—only made it worse. 

The buzzing of the phone startled Eddie out of his brooding. As he was standing right next to it, he picked up the receiver by reflex, grunting a general greeting into it.

“Eddie?” a hushed voice spoke up. “That you?”

Eddie stopped chewing. “… Beverly?”

“Thank God it’s you… I was so scared I’d get your mom.”

Eddie frowned, putting the cracker box down. “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help,” she said with distinct helplessness in her tone. “I don’t know what to do. Richie, he’s kind of… really drunk. He only had a couple of shots of whisky, but he’s pretty out of it, he definitely can’t drive like this, and… my dad will be home soon.”

Eddie backtracked. “Wait… he’s at your place now? And he’s drunk.” What the fuck?

“Yeah,” Beverly said quietly after a pause. “Please don’t ask me to explain. I just—I have to get him out of here. I’m not even allowed to touch the whisky. If my dad finds him here drunk, he—he’ll be so angry.” Her voice broke a little on the last word, reminding Eddie that Red wasn’t the only one with a vicious streak in his blood. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie forced out a sigh, running a hand through his hair while his eyes darted to the stairs. Great—that idiot—he could be so fucking irresponsible sometimes. What plausible excuse could Eddie even come up with for going out this late on such short notice? “Have you tried Bill? He can drive him home, at least. What can I do?”

“Bill’s not home… his mom said he’s out with his girlfriend.” She paused. “Haven’t you seen Richie drive like a million times by now?”

Eddie chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment. Seeing someone drive was not the same as driving. Fuck. “His house is not that far. Just walk him home.”

“His car is in my driveway, Eddie,” Beverly hissed. “How do I explain that to my dad?”

“Ben?” Eddie asked in a last-ditch attempt. 

Beverly hesitated. “I… can’t tell Ben about this.”

Just as Eddie was about to ask why, he heard his mother’s door open, followed by footsteps rattling the ceiling just above his head. 

“Eddie? Who’s on the phone?”

“Give me ten minutes,” he breathed quickly into the receiver. 

“You’re a fucking saint, Eddie.”

Beverly hung up just as his mother picked up the phone line in the hallway upstairs. “Eddie-bear? Who was calling?”

“I need to go out for a bit. I won’t be long,” he said in one breath, slamming down the receiver without waiting for her reply. 

Darting into the foyer, he slipped into his shoes and shot out of the house before she had a chance to come down and question him. If she did, he knew he’d never leave the house. Good thing he hadn’t changed into his night clothes yet.

Taking off at a run, he was surprised to find that he hadn’t forgotten the exact location of Bev’s house despite the fact that he hadn’t been there in years. Her bungalow was even smaller than he’d remembered, a scatter of weeds and boxes of recycled beer bottles littering the front yard in stark contrast to the house he’d visited earlier that day.

As the Chevy was the only car by the garage, he breathed a little easier. He wasn’t too late. 

Beverly opened the front door before he even walked up to it, relief flooding her face. Eddie was relieved to see she was no longer wearing Richie’s shirt. She gave him a quick hug and ushered him into the living room, where Eddie realized she hadn’t been exaggerating.

Stretched out the entire length of the couch with his Converses propped up on top of the arm rest, Richie appeared to be completely passed out, one of his arms dangling off the edge limply while his head bent at an awkward angle, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. He didn’t even stir at the sound of their voices.

“Fuck me…” Eddie muttered under his breath. How were they going to get him into the car? Eddie was willing to bet Richie was heavier than a pile of bricks as a deadweight. “Did you try to sober him up?”

“He took a few sips of water earlier. I didn’t give him more because I was afraid he’d choke on it. I was sure he would snap out of it by now, but… I don’t know.”

“Are you sure he only had a couple of shots?” Eddie asked, leaning over him cautiously. Alcohol poisoning was no joke. Maybe what Richie needed was an ambulance. He pulled back as a strong, unpleasant odour hit him, vaguely reminding him of the sanitizing solution they used at the hospital. 

“Yes, but it’s Scotch whisky… 63% alcohol. My dad likes it strong. Plus—I don’t think I saw him eating anything today. Pretty sure that makes it worse.”

Eddie paused a moment, surprised that Richie also hadn’t eaten that day—it wasn’t like him, Richie loved food. Then something else hit him… they must have spent the whole day together. Something inside of him hardened at the thought. “We need to wake him up.”

Beverly nodded and started patting Richie’s good cheek. “Richie, do you hear me? Eddie’s here. He’s going to take you home.”

Uttering something unintelligible, Richie licked his chapped lips and turned himself onto his side, the bruised side of his face looking uncomfortably smashed against the edge of the sofa. 

Frowning, Eddie grabbed his arm and shook him roughly. “Wake up, we have to go.” He strained to pull the lax body into a sitting position. “Get up, fucker. Get up or I’ll slap the shit out of you.”

At his words, Richie opened his eyes to a squint, looking like he was trying to focus his vision. “Eds?”

“Yeah, dumbass. You got about five seconds to get up before I’m dumping a bucket of cold water over your worthless head.” Satisfied to see a cooperative effort on Richie’s part to get himself off the couch, Eddie pulled him into a standing position, fitting himself under Richie’s arm so he could hold him up. There were some perks to being short, after all. “Pre-AA, my ass. You’re diving head-first into AA, looks like.”

“Eddie…” Richie slurred with obvious difficulty. “Y’came back.”

Not by choice, Eddie wanted to say. “Come on, I’m driving you home.”

“Y’re… driv’en?”

“Yeah, I am. And I won’t feel bad if I wreck your car.”

Eddie maneuvered him in the direction of the front door with small steps while Richie stumbled along, mumbling something under his breath. Even smashed, he couldn’t shut up. 

Beverly rushed to open the front door, following them outside. The sun had already set, the remnants of daylight gradually fading to give way to the veil of darkness that was soon to envelop the quietness of the street. 

Once at the car, Eddie patted Richie’s pockets for the keys while Richie slumped against him, his head rolling down onto his shoulder. Richie mumbled again, his breath warm and steady against Eddie’s neck. “Eds… m’happy…”

Focusing on the task at hand, Eddie tossed the keys to Beverly, who unlocked and fully opened the front passenger door for him. Realizing Richie had stopped mumbling, he used his free hand to pat at his head. “Hey, wake up. You need to get in.”

Richie made a noise in the back of his throat. “Don’ wanna. S’good…” 

Feeling Richie’s arms moving up to snake around his waist, Eddie tried to pry them off, ignoring the slight pick-up in his own heart rate. He couldn’t remember the last time they were this close. What the fuck was Richie doing? He called out to get Beverly’s attention, who was busy looking up and down the street with obvious concern. “You have to help me.”

Detaching himself from Richie’s hold with Beverly’s help, they worked together to stuff him into the front seat with a good deal of difficulty, releasing a sigh of relief almost in unison once the job was done. Richie seemed to be out again, his head drooping low to the side. 

Buckling him in and rolling the back of his seat down slightly so Richie didn’t fold in on himself, Eddie slammed the door shut and took a deep breath.

Now for the hard part.

He slotted himself into the driver’s seat reluctantly, looking over the controls with no small amount of dread. Fucking hell, he had no fucking clue what he was doing. The fear of screwing up paralyzed him for a few good moments. Was he really going to do this? What if he did something wrong? What if he crashed the car? This was beyond stupid. They could both end up in the hospital. 

He took longer than necessary to adjust the seat to his height and buckle himself in an attempt to delay the inevitable while he talked himself through what he needed to do. He could recall every move Richie made while he drove, he’d seen it so many times, but… this just wasn’t the same. He’d be holding both of their lives in his hands. In his unlicensed hands.

Finally slipping the key into ignition, he pressed down on the clutch and started the car—just as he’d seen Richie do it—cringing slightly as though half-expecting the car to blow up. When the motor revved up and steadied, he released the breath that had been painfully stuck in his throat. Fuck. That was a relief.

Now get your shit together, he thought to himself. You can do this.

Hearing a knock on Richie’s window, he leaned over to roll it down, insanely grateful for the waft of fresh air that rushed in. 

Beverly doubled down to look at him, bracing her hands against her thighs. As she did so, something slipped from under the front of her blouse and dangled freely on the black leather band she wore around her neck. It glinted in the light of the streetlamp, catching Eddie’s eye.

It was a silver pendant of two feathery wings crossed at the base. Eddie had seen it once before. 

… In the skater shop at the mall.

“Eddie?”

_Just a reminder. Bev’s kind of like this free spirit._

Eddie turned his face away from it abruptly, feeling inexplicably bitter. Don’t think about it. Don’t fucking think about it. Don’t think about… them. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said in a distracted manner, realizing he hadn’t responded yet. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Thanks again, I owe you one,” Bev said quietly. Eddie heard her draw her breath like she was about to say something but nothing came forth for a bit. After a while, she said, “Drive safe, okay?”

Eddie just nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Shifting gears into reverse, he checked all around for other cars before rolling out slowly while Bev stood watching warily, arms wrapped around herself. Finding himself in the street, he thanked God that it pretty much deserted while he fumbled with the stick and pedals to get it going, swearing under his breath every time the motor died on him in the process. 

Once he finally got it right, he only drove to the end of the street before pulling in to the side and killing the motor—intentionally this time—needing some time to think about what he was going to do next. 

Not a minute later, he caught the sight of a white truck speeding by before pulling into the dirt path by Beverly’s house. From his rear view mirror, Eddie watched her father walk up to the house in a pair of dirty overalls, a large tool kit held in his hand.

At least he’d avoided one disaster. Despite the confusing, disquieting feeling Beverly evoked in him now, she’d always been nice to him and it felt good to help her. No one deserved the things her father did when he got angry.

Rolling down his own window to get a steady, refreshing draft going, Eddie slumped back into his seat and closed his eyes for a few moments, running his hands over his face. 

He was in deep shit with his mother, he knew. Pretty soon, she was bound to start driving around looking for him—or worse, call the Police. Yet he couldn’t just dump a drunk Richie on the front steps of his house and rush home.

Richie had been stupidly irresponsible to do such a thing—especially in Beverly’s house, but Eddie wasn’t about to abandon him to it. He already felt pretty shitty about everything; about the bruise, about their fight that morning… about those last words he’d said to him—the words that should have never left his mouth. Not the way they did, anyway. Not in… anger.

If nothing else, this was his restitution. 

He glanced at Richie’s peaceful expression, marvelling at how different Richie looked when he was asleep. Devoid of its usual mirth and teasing glint, Richie’s face almost looked… sweet. 

Even with his hair tangled and his lips dry, Eddie could see why Beverly—or any girl, for that matter—would fall for him. The chiseled angles of his face, the smooth skin, the long eyelashes… his full lips. 

The only blemish on his face was the light bruise on his cheekbone, which should have never been there in the first place.

Leaning towards him, Eddie brushed a few strands of curls out of the way gently so he could get a better look at it, heart squeezing painfully at the sight. He ghosted his fingertips over it. 

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” he murmured quietly, surprised at the surge of affection in his chest. He felt himself dropping a little lower towards him as he ran his fingers down his cheek all the way to the faint pulse in his neck, emboldened by the fact that Richie wasn’t aware of it. 

God, Richie was so…

Richie’s eyelashes fluttered, lips parting slightly. “Honey… don’ be mad…”

Eddie withdrew his hand like it was burned, snapping back into an upright position. Firmly planting both hands on the wheel, he stared at the road ahead, biting at the inside of his lip. 

Richie thought he was still with Beverly. It made sense… they spent all day together and she was wearing his shirt in the morning, and they probably—they probably…

No. No, he didn’t want to think about this. He couldn’t think about this, he couldn’t… it fucking hurt. 

Water. Water and a walk in the fresh air. That’s what Richie needed. 

Shaking off the harrowing thoughts, Eddie started up the car again and drove to the gas station closest to Richie’s house—slowly but more successfully than before, parking behind the store in case someone who knew either one of them drove by. It was more than likely that the clerks there knew Richie quite well.

Eddie left him in the car as he ran in to buy a couple of larger water bottles. The clerks were slow and there were a few people lined up to pay for gas, so it took him longer than he’d expected. When he returned, Richie was stirring, groaning something about needing to pee. Glad that he was at least awake, Eddie helped him out and led him to a parkette nearby, pushing him into the bushes and turning his back to him for privacy.

“There,” he said, his sharp manner returning now that Richie was awake. “Be quick.”

“What da’fuck we doin’ here?” Richie muttered when he came back, the slur in his speech a touch better than before. He was squinting in the flooding streetlights. 

“Here, drink this,” Eddie said, not even bothering to answer his question. Unscrewing the first water bottle, he pushed it roughly into his hand. 

Blinking hazily, Richie took a few sips, screwing up his nose. “Cold.”

“All of it,” Eddie instructed firmly, guiding his hand back up to his mouth. “Now, Richie.”

After downing about half of it in one go, Richie spluttered and stopped for a breather, protesting weakly when Eddie insisted he finish the rest. He finished it anyway, because Eddie wasn’t about to play games with him. He needed to get home.

Tossing the empty bottle into a recycle bin and pocketing the second for later, Eddie nodded at the adjoining street that led deeper into the neighbourhood away from Richie’s house. “Now we walk. Let’s go.”

They walked in silence for some time. Eddie was deeply relieved to find that Richie’s gait was steadily improving, so by the time they reached the end of the street, he didn’t really need to hold him up anymore. Strolling down the dark street with Richie’s arm around his shoulders felt… weird. At least the street was empty, given the late hour.

Before turning to go back towards the gas station, Eddie pushed the second bottle of water into Richie’s hand, waiting impatiently for him to finish it, then waiting some more while Richie did his business again, all the while his sense of dread ballooned with every minute he spent away from home. He couldn’t even get himself to check his watch. He was in big fucking trouble. 

As they made their way through the little parkette behind the station, Richie finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded honest, at least. And a lot less drunk. 

“Why’d you drink again?” Eddie said in a reproving tone. He didn’t really want an answer. He just didn’t like it.

There was a pause. “… Did you mean it?”

Realizing Richie was no longer beside him, Eddie stopped and turned around to look at him. Richie was standing a few steps back, his cheeks still flushed, eyes oddly bright and naked. Not all that sober, after all. 

Eddie didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “Look, this isn’t the time, okay? Let’s just go. I’m sure your parents are wondering where you are.” 

“Did you mean it?”

“I don’t have time for this, Richie.”

“Yes or no?”

Eddie felt his face harden. “I said I don’t have time for this,” he said, tone cooling further. “My mom’s already out of her mind with worry because of how I left—she has no idea where I am. I should have been back ages ago.” He shook his head, still discomposed by the whole escapade. “I had to drop everything so I could haul your sorry ass home, Richie—in a car. When I don’t fucking drive. I could have ended up in jail. Or the hospital. But you know what? It’s fine. I just don’t need this right now.”

Richie didn’t move. “I said I’m sorry. Answer my question.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously for a moment. It’s like Richie didn’t even fucking care. “You know what, you can drive yourself from here. I’m going home.”

He only made it about ten feet. He heard Richie’s hurried steps behind him but didn’t fully process what was happening until Richie was already glued to his back, the word “Wait” softly escaping his lips as he dropped his face into Eddie’s neck. 

Trapped within his strong arms, Eddie froze on the spot, heart beating wildly like a bird caught in a cage. They were pressed together so closely, all he could feel was the heat of Richie’s body… the warmth of his breath. His insides coiled tightly with tension. 

“What—what are you doing?”

“Just… let me hold you,” Richie murmured at his ear.

The faint scent of alcohol on his breath, the close proximity of their faces, the tickle of Richie’s hair against his cheek… it was all so familiar. It brought back a memory that Eddie didn’t want to bring back. He didn’t want to remember that night—not ever. Why did Richie have to keep doing this shit to him? 

“Let go, Richie,” he demanded, struggling to free himself. He had to get out of there. 

Richie’s arms only tightened in response. “I won’t let you push me away.”

“What the fuck are you on about? I need to get home.”

“You’ve got it all wrong…”

Eddie gritted his teeth. Richie was just wasting his fucking time with his drunken nonsense. “I told you to stop touching me,” he hissed, because he didn’t want _this kind_ of touching. “I’m not—” Beverly, he was intending to say, but the words he uttered were different. “—the one you want.”

He felt Richie exhale shakily against him. “You have no fucking idea what I want.”

At the soft brush of Richie’s lips against his ear with the whispered words, a shiver shot straight through Eddie, rapidly unfurling the wave of heat that was rising deep inside of him. Panicking, he pushed harder against the confining arms. “Let me go. Now.”

Sensing that Richie’s hold on him was loosening, Eddie tore himself out and stumbled a few steps forward. He didn’t turn around, realizing his face was burning. Breathing heavily through his nose, he waited a few moments before speaking to steady himself. 

“Don’t come to my house anymore,” he said, voice quiet but hard, because it felt like the right thing to say at that moment. “I’ll… see you at school.”

Leaving Richie behind didn’t feel any better the second time around.


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning, Eddie woke up in a cold sweat to the beeping of his alarm. He had no recollection of what he’d dreamed, but somehow knew it was the same as before, the panic in his chest all too familiar. He talked himself through it, leaving the aspirator in its drawer.

By the time the clench of anxiety ebbed, it was past the time he usually left the house. It didn’t matter. He didn’t feel like going to school, and Richie wasn’t waiting for him anyway. He didn’t even want to get out of bed. 

Dropping back to his pillow, Eddie regarded the swirls in the ceiling vacantly, a deep sense of apprehension growing in his mind. 

The day before had been… fucked up at best. 

So much shit happened, it made his head spin just thinking about it. He could barely pick it all apart in his mind. The only thing that fully materialized for him—the one thing he couldn’t ignore, like a flashing sign in his face—was that things between him and Richie were definitely _changing_. And not for the better.

Lately, everything just seemed to make him so angry. And when he got angry, it’s like he couldn’t even control what the hell he was saying. 

Spending less time together was probably the right idea—especially time alone. If they continued the way they were going, the emerging break between them would extend beyond repair. Then there would be no returning to what they had before. At the mere idea of losing their friendship altogether, the ache in his chest spiked so sharply he couldn’t bear it. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

What he needed was a distraction. Something—or someone to take his mind off things.

Rolling onto his side, he fixed his gaze on the little paper swan that nestled on top of his pile of comic books. He didn’t end up throwing it away. He still didn’t know if he believed someone had actually left it for him out of some kind of romantic interest, but Bill was right when he’d said it was kind of… neat. Eddie had never seen anything quite like it.

He was kind of curious, after all, to find out who left it and why… he just didn’t know how to go about it. Wouldn’t it have made sense to leave a note? 

Deciding he’d put off getting up long enough, he dragged himself out of bed and took a lengthy shower before heading downstairs, steeling himself for the conversation that was about to take place. 

Having arrived home really late, he’d brushed his mother off with the promise to talk in the morning. Now, there was no escape.

His mother was waiting for him at the kitchen table, hands clasped together tightly, a steaming plate of pancakes with a side of butter and jam neatly set at his usual spot. The deep lines in her face told him he was in for a doozy. 

Keeping his eyes down, he slid into the cold seat ramrod straight, curling his fingers around the edge of the table like he used to do when he got in trouble with her as a kid. His mother pushed the small paper doily of vitamins and supplements towards him, then poured a glass of orange juice in loaded silence. 

Obviously, she was waiting for him to start.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he muttered quickly, very nervous all of a sudden. At the lack of response, he chanced a glance in her direction.

She was regarding him severely, clearly having expected a more detailed explanation. “Are you planning on telling me where you went?”

All the lies Eddie had come up with before going to sleep, not one sounded right to him at that very moment. His mother was sure to see right through him. “I’m sorry.”

His mother’s lips thinned. “Have you been going out with those children again?”

Eddie’s throat nearly froze in fear. Did she find out somehow? No… no, she couldn’t have. He stared at the plate in front of him, unable to meet her eye. “No.”

“I’m worried about you, Eddie. I almost called the Police yesterday. ”

“You don’t have to be. I’m fine.”

His mother’s piercing stare didn’t waver. He could feel its needling effect on his face. “So you’re not going to tell me anything? Who called, where you went? Nothing?”

Eddie stared at his plate, unblinking. What could he fucking say? 

His mother’s sigh was as chastising as her tone of voice. “Your pancakes are getting cold.”

Eddie picked up his pills and swallowed them in one shot, washing them down with orange juice. “I’m not hungry, I’m… not feeling well. I think I’ll stay home today.”

“You didn’t have any supper last night.”

“I told you I ate something after school.”

“Don’t lie to me, Eddie,” she said, her voice rising. “You know I can’t stand that. I found the box of crackers on the counter last night. Crackers are not a meal. Don’t think I don’t know you haven’t been eating your lunches, either. Of course you’re not well—you’ve lost a ton of weight. Plus you’re running out in the middle of the night and hiding things from me. I don’t know what to expect from you anymore.”

Eddie stood up abruptly. He couldn’t deal with this right now, on top of everything else. He should have put the damn box away. “I’m going back to bed. Can you call the school please?”

“I’m going to make an appointment for you to see the doctor.”

“No,” Eddie said, as firmly as he could make it sound. “It’s just my stomach… I’ll eat something later, I promise.”

He watched his mother get up with a deeply disapproving expression on her face. Picking up the plate of pancakes, she dropped it on the counter with a clatter, her chubby hands fumbling with the roll of plastic wrap. “I don’t like this one bit. I hardly know you anymore.”

Eddie stood awkwardly at the table, unsure whether he could slip away yet or not. “I’m sorry,” he said again because he didn’t know what else to say.

When his mother emerged from behind the fridge door, she had a box of leftover pie in her hands. “I honestly can’t handle this,” she said, voice breaking. She retrieved a clean plate from the overhead cabinet. “It’s too much. You father wasn’t any better, you know, and look where that got him.” 

Eddie swallowed heavily. He really didn’t want to talk about his father. He didn’t need her tears. “Mom… I’m fine, really. Please, I won’t do it again.”

“What about tonight? You’re just going to skip out on that, too?”

“Tonight?” Eddie echoed faintly. 

With a generous slice of pie already in her plate, his mother dropped a fork onto it with a loud clang. “This again, Eddie? Something’s not right with you lately.”

Eddie stared at her mutely, almost too scared to ask.

His mother gave him a reproachful look, sitting down to eat. The rims of her eyes were moist. “You promised to take Margaret’s niece out.”

Oh, shit. 

Eddie had to stop himself from saying the words out loud. He rubbed at his forehead, which was starting to feel a little warm and clammy. Maybe he really was getting sick. “I just… I’m not up to it today. I can take her another day, if that’s okay?”

“I don’t see what difference it makes what I say anymore, but fine… I’ll call Marge. I’m sure Allison will be very disappointed.”

Somehow, Eddie doubted that. In fact, he was willing to bet she’d been coerced into it just as much as he was. 

On his way out, he lingered in the doorway as a thought crossed his mind. After a few moments of debating it with himself, he turned to look at her. 

“Mom,” he called out, hesitating only for a moment. “Can you drive me to school from now on?”

~

The following Monday, Eddie got up earlier than usual and, as much as he hated the idea, rode to school with his mother, who was more than happy to agree to his request, seeing it as an amending gesture on his part—which it was not. And while the ride was significantly quieter than before and the songs picked on the radio significantly duller, Eddie assured himself that it was the best thing for him and Richie.

He had tried to call Richie several times over the weekend while his mother was out shopping – just to warn him not to pick him up on Monday and try to explain the new arrangement with the excuse he’d come up with (blaming it on his mother), but… he couldn’t even finish dialing the number. 

After everything else that had happened, Eddie wasn’t sure what Richie’s reaction was going to be… but he knew it wouldn’t be a happy one. Even if Richie said nothing, silently sulking at the other end of the line, Eddie didn’t know if he could handle it. 

When he’d finally given up on trying, he called Bill instead and, in the most cowardly fashion, asked him to relay the message to Richie. He still felt like shit about that.

When they arrived to the school grounds a whole twenty minutes early, Eddie asked to be dropped off at the farthest corner of the parking lot, hoping to sneak into the school unnoticed.

As it turned out, his fucked-up luck had other plans.

Before he could fully cross the parking lot that was rapidly populating with arriving cars, he was cut off by a pick-up truck that veered at speed into the empty spot he was about to pass through, effectively startling the shit out of him. 

Jumping back with his heart in his throat, Eddie scowled deeply when he saw Red exit the truck, a lit cigarette dangling from his downturned lip. He slammed the driver’s door shut and stood by it in a wide stance, idly scanning the lot as though he hadn’t just tried to run Eddie over, his manner totally unconcerned.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Eddie snarled, noting with some satisfaction that Richie wasn’t the only one with a mark on his face. “You could’ve killed me, you stupid fuck!”

Red glanced at him like he’d just noticed him, blowing out smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Then watch where you’re stepping,” he barked out. “Cuz I don’t stop for filthy queers.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Or what? Tozier’s not here to hold your hand today, is he.”

Eddie glared at him with undisguised hatred. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t he?” Red’s upper lip twisted nastily. “Where is he, anyway? Did he get a taste for tits and ditch you? Then again, that red-head’s pretty hot… betcha she gets wet real quick.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “Shut up.”

“Are you gonna cry?” Red taunted, advancing up to him and bending slightly to blow smoke into his face. “Want me to call mommy back?”

Eddie turned his face away from the suffocating stench, feeling the burn in the back of his throat. His fists clenched of their own accord, the rolling wave of anger inside of him overwhelming his senses. Fuck, Eddie hated him. He hated him so fucking much. 

Red snorted, flicking the cigarette butt at Eddie’s feet. “Don’t you worry, Kaspbrack. If it’s cock you’re after, there are plenty of other queers around.”

The words tore through Eddie like a steel rod driven through the heart.

In a rush of adrenalin fueled by blind rage, he drew back his fist and drove it into Red’s sneering face with all of his might, knuckles connecting with the bridge of his nose with a satisfying crunch.

Red staggered back slightly, momentarily stunned by the unexpected assault, his hand whipping up to his face to catch a spurt of blood gushing out of his nose. Swearing under his breath, he fisted his bloodied hand into the front of Eddie’s jacket and back-handed him so viciously, Eddie saw stars. 

The force of the blow sent Eddie’s small frame flying to the ground, the side of his face hitting the hard asphalt in a terrifying reality check. He stopped breathing as his brain phased out for a few moments, white spots dancing in his vision. He emerged from his daze only to register the excruciating pain exploding in the right side of his face. 

Bracing his hands against the cold cement, Eddie tried to raise himself up but his arms wouldn’t hold him, far too shaky to support the full weight of his torso. He dropped back to the ground, shocked to see a stream of thick, red blood drip from his parted mouth, followed by a conditioned surge of panic. Fuck…

When Red’s hands twisted like vices around his backpack straps with the intention of hauling him back up, Eddie’s entire body knotted, caught in the grips of an irrational thought that in that moment felt like a very real possibility. 

Red was going to kill him. 

Seized by fear, Eddie screwed his eyes shut. _Richie…_

As though on cue, something collided with Red’s massive frame at lightning-fast speed and within an instant Red was off Eddie’s back and rolling around in the dirt with Richie, whose face was blazing with sheer, unbridled wrath.

They hissed curses at each other while aiming their fists for tender spots but mostly managing to block each other, both failing to get the upper hand. Richie’s leaner form was working to his advantage in escaping the blows, but Red’s beefier build was increasingly getting more purchase, finally getting him to pin Richie down as Red straddled him, grappling to deal a punch to his face. 

In the back of his mind, Eddie could hear cheering voices gathering round, one desperate voice amongst them urgently calling out for the fight to stop, but all he could consciously register was Red’s massive body on top of Richie’s, Red’s filthy slurs, Red’s vicious attempts to bypass Richie’s arms that were crossed over his face in defense. 

When the fist finally connected, Richie’s pained grunt snapped Eddie out of his shocked state, shutting out the pain, the fear, the crowd… everything. 

Dropping his backpack, he thrust himself into the fight with renewed zeal, focused solely on throwing Red off. 

He had no fucking right to touch Richie. No one did. _No one_. 

Forced to shift his attention, Red was just about to strike Eddie again when Richie drove his fist into his gut, causing him to double over momentarily. 

That moment was enough for Eddie to react by imprinting the hard sole of his shoe into Red’s bleeding face with as much force as he could muster. Head thrown back with the force of the blow, Red finally dropped off to the side, cradling his nose with a ferocious growl of pain.

If it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of the principal, Eddie could only guess where it would have all ended.

Followed closely by Stiles, who was shuffling his short legs to keep up, the principal made his way through the crowd, their briefcases clutched tightly in their hands. The onlookers parted widely to allow them better access amidst hushed murmurs.

“Break it up!” Stiles screeched gravely despite the fact that the fight stalled the moment they showed up. The lines in his face were drawn as sternly as the principal’s, who was far younger than him but no less severe. He dabbed a handkerchief at his balding head that was covered in beads of sweat from the rising humidity—or maybe from the excitement. “Tozier and Redkin! I could have known.” 

The principal was regarding them impassively, his bearing far calmer than that of the flustered man beside him. It was deceptive—Eddie knew he had zero tolerance for fist fights or any kind of commotion that threatened the school’s routine; he made a point of it at every damn assembly. 

Somewhere in the distance the bell chimed, prompting a good number of students to separate from the crowd, thinning it out considerably. Eddie figured there was nothing else to see anyway.

Hauling himself up, Red wiped at his face with his arm, scowling deeply when it came away with fresh blood. He spit out onto the ground derisively, just narrowly missing Richie’s face, who rolled away and sat himself up. “Fucking queer bitches.”

“Mr. Redkin, I will not tolerate the use of profanity on school grounds,” the principal stated, pushing his round glasses further up his nose. “Which one of you cares to explain?”

“It was one of them,” Stiles said, leering scathingly between Red and Richie, which made Eddie want to break his face, too. “They’re always starting trouble in my class.”

“It was me,” Eddie said quickly, working to keep his breath even and his face blank. “I started it.” 

At the number of surprised looks that turned on him, he brought himself up to a standing position and bent over to pick up his backpack. Without warning, a dizzying wave of nausea hit him, threatening to spill out the contents of his stomach. For a few awful seconds, he was sure he was going to throw up right there, on the cement, with everyone watching. The taste of blood in his mouth turned acrid and bitter.

He braced his hands against his knees as he swayed weakly, the thudding of pain against his skull returning with a vengeance. It didn’t help. His limbs went slack like they were going to give out and he would have probably fallen over if someone’s small arms didn’t grab hold of him and eased him back upwards, Beverly’s quiet voice murmuring his name in concern. 

The principal was at his side within seconds, holding him up from the other side. “Do you need to see the nurse, Edward?”

Eddie grunted a refusal, inhaling through his nose sharply and deeply to overinflate his lungs. He recognized what it was; he knew the symptoms well enough. It wasn’t his first concussion, he could ride it out. It was always the worst at the beginning… it wouldn’t last long. 

He couldn’t panic now. He didn’t want to give Red that satisfaction.

Once he felt steady enough to speak, he nodded in Red’s direction, whose bloodied nose was turning into a bruised, swollen mess. “I think he does,” he said hoarsely, lips quirking a little at his own achievement. Even through the anger and the pain, that shit felt _good_. 

“I’m surprised at you,” the principal remarked, disappointment evident in his tone. Eddie didn’t have to ask why. In his four years at his school, he’d never seen Eddie in his office, not even once. This wasn’t exactly typical behaviour for him. “Regretfully, you’ll have to serve detention for this. All three of you—I expect to see you in my office at lunch time. And Mr. Redkin… I believe we need to have a discussion, you and I.”

“Redkin, follow me,” Stiles beckoned, ushering for the remnant of the crowd to start dispersing as well. 

Throwing Eddie a hateful look that promised certain retaliation, Red followed Stiles into the building along with everyone else. 

Staying behind, Eddie wiped at his mouth, annoyed at seeing a smear of dark blood come off. He would have to check his clothes for it once he went inside. His mother couldn’t know about this. What would he tell her if he had a bruise? Fuck.

He glanced at Richie, who was still sitting on the ground, his mop of hair concealing his face. Beverly was kneeling at his side, her hand sliding over his cheek with obvious tenderness. They must have come in together.

Still high on adrenaline, Eddie’s anger boiled in his veins.

Why did he have to think of Richie in that moment? And why did Richie have to show up and stand in for him again? Eddie didn’t need his protection. He didn’t need his… pity. He knew he should be grateful—it’s what anyone else in his position would be—but that’s not how he felt at all. His mother was right, there was something wrong with him. The only feeling storming inside of him was anger… raw unadulterated anger. 

Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to keep his mouth shut and go inside, but it was already too late. The anger was spilling over so quickly, he could barely contain it.

“Why’d you do that?” he started icily.

Richie finally got to his feet, refusing to meet his eye. Judging by the tension in his posture, he could sense what was coming, if only from Eddie’s tone. “I told you not to get involved.”

“And I told you I’m already involved. He nearly ran me over.”

“That’s not why you punched him.”

Eddie’s eyes grew harder. “Why I punched him is none of your fucking business. You’re not my mother.” 

Richie turned to him then, a determined look in his eye. Eddie could sense the underlying hurt behind it, but it did nothing to abate his anger. “So I’m nothing to you now? You don’t care how I feel?”

Eddie huffed out incredulously. “How about you, fucker? Huh? When have you _ever_ cared about how I feel?”

“That’s _all_ I care about, you dumbass. How can you be so blind?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie nearly shouted, feeling ready to explode. “Everything you do is always about you—what you want! You do whatever the fuck you want whenever you the fuck you want to. You don’t care how I feel about it and you don’t fucking ask. Like just now. Why don’t you mind your own goddamn business?”

Richie made a loud, frustrated grunt in the back of his throat. “I can’t fucking believe you. This thing with Redkin—isn’t about you. Do you fucking get that? I already told you it’s me he’s after. _Me._ When are you going to get that through your thick skull? You’re so wrapped up in your own shit half the time, you can’t see what’s right in front of you!”

“Fuck you! I see everything just fine! 

“You don’t see shit! You only see what you want to see.” Richie shook his head, looking torn. “There’s something he found out—something he knows. He just wants to fuck with me.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie scoffed in disbelief. “So why’s he fucking with me instead?”

“You just… don’t understand.”

“So make me understand,” Eddie snapped because he really didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all. “What the hell does he know? And why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Richie hesitated, arms taught at his sides. “You don’t need to know everything.”

It couldn’t have stung worse if Eddie was stabbed with a knife. “Oh, apparently! All I’m good for is the trash talk, is that it?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? This isn’t the first time you’re hiding shit from me,” Eddie said with more bitterness than he’d intended, his gaze flickering to Beverly. She was still standing at Richie’s side, looking between them with something akin to pained helplessness. “But you’re right, I don’t need to know and I don’t even care. I’m the one he treats like garbage, so I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I didn’t ask you to jump in.”

Richie raked his hands through his hair, voice rising in exasperation. “What did you want me to do then? Just walk on by? Join the crowd and watch? Place bets on who’d end up face-down in the dirt with all his teeth knocked out or worse? And what—call 911, or maybe the coroner—to scrape you off the pavement? Would that be considerate enough of your feelings? Would that make you happy? Tell me… what the fuck is it that you want from me, Edward?”

“Nothing! I’ve never wanted anything from you! And you know what—I’m done going along with your shit. I’m fucking done with it, Richie… I don’t—” His breath hitched as he pushed back on the hurtful lie he wanted to say. Don’t, he told himself. Don’t say it. Fucking don’t. “—I don’t need you.”

Something about Richie’s face changed abruptly, the rise and fall of his chest growing unsteady. He stared at him openly, mouth slightly parted, curled hands shaking at his sides. He’d never looked more vulnerable. 

“What? Trashmouth’s got nothing to say for once?” Eddie bit out, unable to stop himself. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d let things spiral way out of control, yet still couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He could only look on while his anger did the talking for him. 

“Eddie, please stop…” Beverly pleaded, her glistening eyes fixed on him widely. 

When Richie spoke, his words were quiet and broken. The look on his face made Eddie hate himself so much more. “If this is about the other night…”

“You’re sorry, I know. I heard that one already.” 

“What do you want to hear then? Why I did it? … I can tell you.”

“Forget it! I don’t care anymore.”

Richie exhaled shakily, dropping his shoulders. “Why are you doing this?” He looked so defeated. 

Eddie couldn’t get himself to respond right away. What would he even say? He didn’t fucking know himself what was wrong with him. 

“I’m late for class,” he said finally, picking up his backpack and turning to go because he desperately needed to get out of there. 

The rise of Richie’s strained voice arrested his step. “What do you keep running away from?”

Eddie closed his eyes, his rabid pulse throbbing painfully behind his eyelids. 

“Just… stay away from me,” he said, knowing that the words were not his own—born of anger and fear, they were only meant to cut, to push away—but saying them anyway. He erased all emotion from his face before turning halfway towards Richie. “You got that? Stay the fuck away from me.”

They didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the day.

~ 

Things only got worse as the week went by.

Starting the very next day, Eddie started making minor adjustments to his daily routine at school to ensure that he saw as little of Richie as was humanly possible for two people attending the same school, convinced that he needed to put more space between them… much more.

So he made sure to be the last to arrive to Math class and the first to leave, took the routes around school he knew wouldn’t be passing by Richie’s classrooms, avoiding the Physics lab like the plague, and took off in the opposite direction whenever he spotted Richie in the hallways. The only time they really ended up seeing each other was at lunch, and… well. 

Richie didn’t make that easy for him at all.

In fact, he seemed hell-bent on making it into the biggest possible shit-show of all time by picking on Eddie every single chance he got.

It was either what Eddie was saying, or the way he was sitting, or what he was wearing—everything was a fucking joke to Richie, and then some. It went on and on until it provoked a reaction out of Eddie, until Eddie couldn’t help but take the bait, and then they were at each other’s throats for the rest of the time, their insults more biting than ever. 

Their new dynamic earned plenty of looks from the rest of the group—all apart from Beverly, who seemed more subdued than ever—but thankfully no questions, the matter being side-stepped tactfully, even when the tension rose so high it was impossible to ignore. 

With each day that passed, Eddie felt less compelled to show up at lunch at all, feeling drained by Richie’s endless goading and the fighting it incited. It was almost as though Richie _wanted_ to get into a fight with him. He didn’t seem to understand that Eddie just needed some space—or he simply didn’t care, neither possibility being surprising to Eddie in the least.

The more he pushed, the further Eddie withdrew—until finally, when the bell announced the beginning of the lunch period that Friday, he made the conscious decision to wander into the first empty classroom instead of taking his usual route to the cafeteria. 

Setting himself up at one of the tables, he pulled out his Math practice exam and worked on it as best he could, pausing every few minutes to refocus his attention, trying not to dwell on how very exhausted he was. 

His nights were becoming unbearable. 

His dream was returning again and again with renewed punch that tore him out of his sleep in a gripping panic, his lungs constricted, heart racing, sheets soaked in cold sweat. He could barely stand it anymore. It was so gruelling, it made his days nearly impossible to get through. While Red didn’t show back up at school that week to haunt him, Eddie found it harder than ever to concentrate on anything. 

More often than not he ended up falling asleep during class time, which got him sent to the office at least once a day much to the principal’s surprise; then, at the end of the day, he dragged himself to the library and stayed far past his usual hour—all the way until Bill was packing up to go home around supper time, claiming he needed to study more now that the mid-terms were just around the corner. 

Once he got home, he barely left his room, unyielding to his mother’s pleas to have a bite of food or at least go see the doctor. He explained the bruise on his jaw by saying he had a fall—but he knew his mother didn’t buy it. She cried a few times, begging him to tell her what was going on so she could help him. Although he felt bad for her, he couldn’t find the energy to argue with her, so he didn’t. He remained silent instead. It was easiest.

It was only after she retired to her bedroom at night that he sneaked downstairs to fill his stomach with cheese and crackers if only to keep himself going. He felt too sick to be hungry; there was still a lingering queasiness inside of him that couldn’t seem to go away. 

He told himself it was an aftereffect of the concussion but… deep inside, he knew it really wasn’t.

Lying awake in his bed late at night, he caught himself staring at his window, his mind’s eye conjuring a familiar figure out of the shadows—perched on the window sill in his hoodie, ripped jeans and Converse shoes, dark hair curling into his grinning face, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

And that’s when it really hit him hard. He missed Richie.

He missed the times when everything was still okay between them. The easy conversations, the comfortable silences, the harmless bickering… even his stupid jokes. 

He missed Richie so much it hurt. He felt overwhelmed with it.

It made him want to curl up tightly and stay in his bed until it was all over—the anger, the bitterness, the fear… all the confusing feelings that were rolling around in his chest—no better than a child that hid under the covers to wait out the storm, hoping it would pass soon. 

Except the storm he was facing wasn’t passing; if anything, it was getting worse. And he was losing himself in it… losing Richie in it, too. 

He was just… so damn tired. 

Realizing his eyes were closing and he was drooping lower and lower to the desk, Eddie finally gave in to his fatigue and tucked his head into the crook of his elbow, letting himself drift away.

~

He was startled awake by the blaring of the school bell. Upon opening his eyes, he realized he was no longer alone.

Bev was watching him warily from a few seats away. She was chipping the paint off one of her fingernails idly, the pendant on her chest standing out sharply against her turquoise blouse. 

“Bev…” he mumbled, rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes before surveying the room quickly. They were the only ones there. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a class,” she said quietly, patting the textbook in front of her, almost timid in her manner. It was the first time they’d spoken to each other since the parking lot. “What about you?”

“Oh, um… nothing. Just working on Math.”

“Isn’t that what you do with Bill after school?”

“I just… needed to finish something.” Eddie rushed to pack up his stuff before she could ask him any more questions when he spotted something on top of his exam paper that gave him pause, aborting his movements. 

It looked like a miniature turtle. Folded out of dark green paper.

Oh, God. This again? With everything going on, he’d completely forgotten about it.

Snapping out of his momentary shock, Eddie whisked it into his backpack with the rest of his stuff. He couldn’t dwell on it just then, not with Beverly in the same room. Had she seen it upon entering? He shot a quick glance at her, but she was looking over her nails and her face didn’t give a clue either way. His eyes slid down to her chest again like they couldn’t help it. Fuck, did he have to keep looking at it?

“I gotta go,” he said as he stood up, feeling inexplicably annoyed. “See you later.”

Before he made it all the way out, she called out to him hesitantly, turning his head. “Hey, is… everything okay with you?”

“Everything’s fine,” Eddie grunted out, eager to go. 

“Has Richie… come by here?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure Richie didn’t take Economics. “No, why would he?”

“I thought maybe he was looking for you.”

Eddie certainly hoped not. The whole idea of being there was to avoid him. “Why would you think that? Wasn’t he with you at lunch?”

Beverly was chewing on her lip, looking oddly uncomfortable. “Yeah, he was there, but I didn’t stay long… I went out with Ben for a bit.”

Eddie searched her face for a moment, feeling confused by the intent look she was giving him—there was almost some sort of expectation there. “Okay, whatever,” he said turning around, because he really didn’t feel like sticking around and discussing what she did for her lunch hour and why. “I have to get to class.”

He was about to step out when Beverly’s tentative voice rose again.

“He’s really hurting, you know. Because of all this.”

Eddie felt something painful press against his throat, chest tightening. He didn’t have to ask whom she was talking about. 

He was saved from answering by a flurry of students that started flooding in past him, rushing into the empty seats. Hearing someone calling out to her in greeting, he slipped out before she could say anything else.

~

Eddie tossed the turtle onto the table, prompting Bill to stop writing and look up. 

“Another one?” Bill asked, looking over it in astonishment. “Where’d you find it this time?”

Eddie plunked down into the seat next to him, unloading his backpack onto the floor and retrieving his practice exam. “I was working on this,” he said, giving it a shake mid-air before dropping it next to the turtle. “Guess I fell asleep for a bit and… well, same shit. It was just there.” 

“You mean at lunch?” Bill asked, eyeing him curiously. “Where were you?”

Eddie got out his textbook and leafed through it, not meeting his eye. “Ec room.” 

Bill didn’t ask why. He probably didn’t have to, being neither blind nor stupid. “So you were sitting in the classroom, you fell asleep, and someone dropped this off for you. I got to say, that’s… really, really dedicated. I mean—you’ve got a stalker. You’re usually in the caf at lunch.”

Eddie paused abruptly. “Fuck, you’re right,” he said in realization because he hadn’t thought of it that way. Now that he was considering the possibility that someone was following him around, he was more than a little unnerved by it. Why would anyone even do that? It was probably some crazy person after all. “That’s just creepy.”

“Guess you could say that, too. I think it’s kind of sweet, though.”

“Sweet, my ass,” Eddie grumbled in annoyance to cover up for his embarrassment. He already had a stalker and that was plenty. “Why can’t she just come up and say hi? Give me her number or something. I don’t know. Seriously, what’s with this shit?”

Bill shook his head, looking just a tad amused at his discomfort. “Not everyone’s that forward, you know. Sometimes it’s really hard to approach someone you like—for example, it took me a few weeks to get up the nerve to ask Annie out. It’s not always obvious if the other person likes you. It can be really nerve-wracking to try and figure it out… and you kind of want to make sure they do before you say anything, you know?”

“So how’d you figure out she liked you?”

“I didn’t… but the group sessions were coming to an end, so I asked her out anyway. Sometimes you just have to take the plunge and hope for the best.” 

“You didn’t do shit like this though, did you.”

“No… but Ben did.”

Eddie gave him a funny look. Ben had never even had a girlfriend—he was far too buried in his career plans. “Ben, really?”

“I told you about it, remember?” Bill said pointedly, waving his hand a bit. “He used to slip secret notes to Bev… like love poems and stuff. Years ago.”

“Oh, shit—that’s right,” Eddie said, mouth parting slightly at the rekindled memory. He remembered snickering over it with Richie; they both thought it was pretty damn hilarious at the time. Now it was happening to him. “How did she find out it was him again?”

Bill hummed, looking pensive. “Actually… she thought it was me at first. She quoted it to me once, thinking I was the one that was sending them. I was pretty confused… kind of wish it was me.” He paused to chuckle to himself. 

At Eddie’s expecting look, he cleared his throat and continued. “I guess—when he kissed her? We were like… fourteen or so, remember? We were at the Quarry and she dove wrong or something. When she didn’t come up for air, he shot in after her and brought her up. She was unconscious for a bit.” Bill’s eyes grew still and unfocused. “I remember it well, I was so scared she was going to die. But he dragged her out onto the shore and kissed her, and… she came to.”

Eddie only had a vague recollection of it. He did remember the kissing part, but he’d thought he was trying to resuscitate her at the time. A question rose sharply in his mind, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “How come that didn’t… you know, work out?”

“… How do you know it didn’t?”

Eddie shrugged a little. If Bill didn’t know about her and Richie, it wasn’t Eddie’s place to tell him. She was certainly popular amongst them, though. He wondered briefly why he’d never had a crush on her. She was pretty enough. He liked her curly red hair and bright smile, and she had a great fashion sense—he quite enjoyed the little outfits she picked for herself day by day. He just never thought of her in that way.

“Hey, did you get everything right on the exam?”

“Oh… I didn’t finish it yet.” 

“It’s only about a week to midterms, you know,” Bill cautioned, picking it up to look over it. “I’m sure you’ll do great and all, but just saying… you haven’t been paying much attention lately.”

“I know, I know, I’ll finish it today,” Eddie muttered, edgy from his lack of sleep. Even after the nap he’d taken, he was still fucking exhausted. He flicked the turtle with his fingers. “So what do I do about these stupid things?”

“I thought you said you were going to throw the other one out.” At Bill’s close scrutiny, Eddie felt his cheeks warm up. “… You didn’t, though.”

Eddie lowered his head to hide his face, sure that it was red. He should have. “I just thought I’d find out who’s leaving them or something.”

“Why are you interested all of a sudden?” 

“… I don’t know,” Eddie said, unsure of himself. What would he even do if he knew who it was? Would he really ask her out? It could be someone that looked like Allison—or worse. “Whatever, I don’t care.”

“Well, hold on a sec, don’t just dismiss it. I’m not saying it’s a bad thought, I was just curious. Let’s see… have you noticed anyone looking at you differently? Maybe paying more attention to you than usual?”

Eddie shook his head. No one ever paid any attention to him. “How would I even know? What’s ‘differently’?”

Bill thought on it for a few moments, fiddling with his pen. “Have you ever seen how couples around school look at each other? Kind of like that. Honestly, I can’t believe you haven’t noticed _something_ by now, seeing how she seems to be following you around at least part of the time.” 

Eddie was still wracking his brain to try and figure out whether Bill ever looked at Annie in any ‘different’ sort of way when Bill snapped his fingers and pulled a milk carton out of his backpack, setting it on the table. “Almost forgot… Richie asked me to give this to you since you didn’t make it to lunch.”

Eddie glanced at it, almost sorrowfully. Why would he even do that? Eddie had refused taking them from him all that week. “I can’t drink it anyway, it’s probably spoiled by now.” 

Bill regarded him quietly for a little while. “Can I ask… what’s going on with you two?”

Eddie’s hands grew clammy at the unexpected question. It was the first time anyone had asked him directly about it. He kind of figured Bill was going to ask eventually, but he still didn’t know what to say. He turned his face away, oddly self-conscious.

“Sorry, I don’t want to butt in or anything… I just—I’ve never seen you so mad at each other before.”

Is that what they were—or looked like? Eddie didn’t feel mad anymore, not really. He was pretty sure Richie wasn’t mad, either. He didn’t really know what they were. “You should ask him.”

“You know…” Bill said after a pause. “He left lunch early today.”

“So what?”

“… Nothing. I just think you guys need to talk. Alone.”

Eddie shook his head resolutely. “Not happening.”

“So you’re planning on hiding out for the rest of the school year?”

“I’m not—” Eddie started with a frown but cut himself off, realizing the words he was about to utter were a lie. Hiding was exactly what he was doing. “No, but I’m pretty sure I’m done talking to him. All he does is make fun of me.” 

“Eddie, come on, he makes fun of everyone—that’s just how he is. Something’s happened, I can tell. I wasn’t going to say anything but it’s been a week, and… you should really work it out.”

“I don’t know if we can,” Eddie said frankly because he really didn’t. 

Bill gave him one of his looks. “How can you even say that? You’ve been inseparable for almost eight years, remember that? You’ve never let anything come between you like this. Whatever it is… it’s not worth it.” 

At Eddie’s unconvinced silence, he pressed on. “Why don’t you give it a try, at least? You just… you’ve got to talk to him without—you know… without an audience. He’s different when others are around, you know that. He turns into a clown. Granted, he’s always a bit of a clown… but he can be sensible, too. Like maybe go somewhere together, just the two of you… and tell him how you feel.” His eyes darted away before he rushed to add, “I m-mean—about whatever’s happened.”

Eddie let a heavy sigh escape his lips, hesitating still. After everything he’d said in the parking lot, would Richie even want to meet up with him again? “I don’t know. Where would we even go?”

“How about the Barrens? You both sort of missed out on it last time, and it’s a nice, quiet place to talk. He can take you to that new spot in the woods, you’d like it.”

Eddie blinked at him, stuck on his words. “What the hell do you mean, we both missed out on it? Richie was there.”

Bill paused, his face mirroring Eddie’s confusion. “Yes but… he left early on, just before it started getting dark. He only made it to the clearing… he didn’t stay for the fire. Didn’t you know that, though? I thought he went to see you. He was really upset when you didn’t show up.”

Eddie stared at him dumbfounded. Was Bill being serious?

Richie did come to see him, yes, but… Eddie hadn’t come back from his visit with the Spencers until really late that night—well past dark. He’d assumed the entire time Richie had dropped in after everyone else went home. It had never even occurred to him to consider the possibility that Richie might have left early, left everyone—left Beverly… to go keep him company. 

Now that he thought about it, though… Richie never told him anything about that part of the trip—not really. He only made some stupid joke about it.

Shit… how long had he been sitting there, waiting for him?

Overcome with a shattering feeling of remorse, Eddie found himself staring at the abandoned milk carton, inhaling deeply through his nose against the bruising tightness that was building up in his lungs.

_He’s really hurting, you know._

Fuck, of course Eddie knew. He knew Richie far too well not to realize how much his words in the parking lot had hurt him. And he felt guilty—so fucking guilty he was choking on it—for saying them in the first place. It was shredding him up inside. He wanted to tell Richie he didn’t mean them, wanted to so damn much, but he didn’t know how. 

It seemed all they could do lately was argue and bite each other’s heads off. 

“Eddie?”

Realizing Bill was still awaiting an answer, Eddie bit at the inside of his lip in distress. Richie had always come through for him—always. Eddie had to find a way to make it right. He just had to. 

Yet he struggled to say the words he knew he should, because somewhere deep inside the idea of being alone with Richie again… terrified him.

“Okay,” he blurted out at last, caving under the crushing weight upon his chest. “Okay fine, I’ll go.”

Sensing a reassuring hand upon his arm, Eddie looked at him, hoping he didn’t look the nervous wreck he felt. Bill’s features were far too understanding, softened in relief. “Don’t worry… you’ll figure it out, I’m sure of it. Will tomorrow work?”

Eddie could only nod, not trusting himself to speak.

Bill squeezed his arm. “I’ll call him for you. What time should I tell him to pick you up?”


	7. Chapter 7

“How much longer, Richie?”

“As long as it takes.”

“What the hell does that mean? As long as it takes to what?”

“To get there.”

“Are you even sure you’re going the right way?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure? You’re _pretty sure_?”

A pause. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, fuck. You got us lost, didn’t you. We’re fucking lost.”

“We’re not lost. Quit freaking out.”

“We’re in the middle of the woods and you have no idea where we’re going. That’s _lost_.”

“You can’t get lost in here.”

“Pretty sure _you_ can,” Eddie accused, his tone just a little too scathing, his good will all but gone. 

Things had not been going well from the very beginning. 

From the moment he found Richie waiting for him at Seven Eleven, they’d barely said a word to each other. And it wasn’t that Eddie didn’t try, because he’d promised himself to be nice and not get into any unnecessary arguments so that maybe, _maybe_ they could work things out, but Richie’s bland, cursory answers to his repeated attempts at starting up a friendly conversation only served to infuriate him. And, okay, maybe ‘friendly’ was a bit of a stretch seeing how he was all nerves himself, but at least he was trying.

Once they’d parked by the trail they were taking, Richie shut his door and went straight for it, not even bothering to see if Eddie was following, his long legs carrying him far too quickly for Eddie to catch up without having to break into a light jog now and again. He only paused briefly from time to time to survey the surroundings before starting up again while Eddie struggled to keep up, steaming silently at Richie’s lack of amiability. 

Distracted as he was by his brooding thoughts, it was only a good while later upon seeing Richie take out his flashlight that it registered for him that they had deviated from the beaten path and were definitely taking far too long to get to a place that he’d thought was no more than a ten minute walk down the trail path. The darkness surrounding them was steadily thickening and it was becoming increasingly difficult to spot the thick roots and branches underfoot, which made the walk just a little too precarious for Eddie’s comfort.

“Bill said it wasn’t far,” he spoke up again, unnerved by the nagging feeling in his chest. Something definitely didn’t feel right. 

“It’s not.”

“Then why are we still walking?”

“Because we’re not there yet.”

“No shit,” Eddie snapped just before he stumbled over yet another root. “Can you slow the fuck down?”

“Can you keep up?”

Eddie glared at his back with burning annoyance. Why was he even following him still? Richie clearly wasn’t interested in talking to him—or working anything out. He should have turned around a long time ago. “I’m going back.”

“In the dark? I’d like to see you try.”

Eddie stopped walking. “We’re turning back.”

Richie lowered his flashlight and turned around to look at him for the first time that evening. Eddie couldn’t see his face very well, but something about his eyes felt cold and distant. “We can’t. It’s too dark.”

Thrown, Eddie stared at him. “What?”

“We’re lost. Is that what you wanna hear? Fine, I admit it.”

Eddie’s body went ice cold, as though all the blood had drained from it. That’s not what he wanted to hear at all. “Are you fucking serious? You just said you can’t get lost in here!” he exclaimed, voice rising in exasperation as the first chill of panic set in. 

“We’re not _lost_ -lost, it’s just for the night,” Richie said, apparently completely unperturbed by his own words. “I’ll find my way back when it’s light again.”

Eddie shook his head mutely, hoping to God he’d heard wrong. Did Richie just say for the _night_? “No… no fucking way. We’re turning around right now and going out the way we came in.”

Richie’s eyes on him were unwavering. “I said it’s too dark.”

“You have a flashlight!”

“It’s not enough to find my way back to the trail. Everything looks different. We could be walking around in circles all night.”

“So who told you to get off the fucking trail, dumbass?”

Richie’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Well guess what, Edward—that’s where it is. Off the fucking trail. You’re the one that chose to come here this late.”

Eddie ran his hands through his hair, gripping at it frantically. He didn’t exactly ‘choose’. Sneaking out after his mother went to sleep was the only way; she didn’t take his eyes off of him these days. “I thought it was somewhere close by—on the trail! Why did you keep going all this time if you didn’t know where the hell you were going?”

“Why did you keep following me?”

“Quit throwing everything back at me! I thought you knew what you were doing.”

“Guess you should have known better.”

“Damn fucking right,” Eddie said with cutting sharpness, blaming himself nearly as much as he blamed Richie. Why hadn’t he paid attention sooner? Now that they were in this mess, he couldn’t believe he let Richie lead him anywhere at all. Screwing things up was one of Richie’s specialties—the one thing he could be trusted with a hundred percent of the time. “So what are we supposed to do now? Sit here and freeze to death?”

“We could make a fire and sing ‘Kumbaya’.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie bit out, sending his promise to be nice straight to hell. Falling back on anger was all he could do to keep himself from full out panicking. “I’m not staying here, Richie, I’m not. I can’t—my mom—” His voice cut off, mouth growing numb, because he knew it wasn’t his mother he was really worried about. Spending an entire night alone with Richie… was not what he’d signed up for. 

Richie gave a soft snort. “With those horse tranquilizers she takes, your mom wouldn’t wake up if I stuck my dick up her ass. And that’s saying something.”

“Shut up! I’m not staying here.” 

“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice. You should be used to that by now, right?”

Eddie felt his anger rise along with the bitterness. “I’m glad my life is so damn amusing to you. You know what’s not amusing? Hypothermia. Do you know how cold the ground gets at night? I mean—are you actually expecting me to sleep here? I really don’t feel like losing a few fingers or toes overnight.”

Richie just looked at him in a cool manner before averting his eyes. “I don’t expect anything of you. And it doesn’t look like you sleep much lately, anyway.”

Eddie curled his lip, growing irritated beyond measure. Of course Richie could tell. Going by what Eddie saw in the mirror every day, it was pretty damn obvious. “You know what? You can stay here all night and converse with the trees or the frogs or whatever, have a trash talking party for all I care, but I’m getting out of here—give me the flashlight.”

“Should have brought your own.”

Setting his jaw determinedly, Eddie took a step towards him. “Give me the damn flashlight, Richie.”

Richie hid his hands behind his back. “You’ll have to come and get it,” he said, a sort of wry grin making its way to his lips. “Careful, though… you might have to get really close and we both know how much you’d hate that.”

Scowling deeply, Eddie turned his back to him, hands fisted tightly. What the fuck was he thinking coming here at all? He was an idiot to believe anything good could have come out of it. He should have known Richie would just be an ass about everything. Not that Eddie didn’t fully deserve it, but still. It only made an already difficult situation into a straight out disaster. 

Realizing he had no way out, he wrung his hands together and took to pacing nervously, quickly getting himself into a back-and-forth rhythm. Don’t panic, he told himself over and over again. Don’t fucking panic. It’s not all that bad. It was only—what, six-seven hours till the first light? Fuck.

Peripherally, he heard Richie say, “Stay here, I’ll get some wood,” but paid little attention to it. Like there was anywhere to go. Left alone in the dark, he concentrated on steadying his breathing, trying his best to ignore all of the forest noises that were rapidly starting to creep into his awareness. 

Shuffling and crackling; an odd rustling in the leaves. Shit, there were probably coyotes in these woods. And snakes—he’d seen snakes there for sure. Were snakes nocturnal? Some of them might be. What if he stepped on one? What if they got eaten by something? Maybe there were weirdoes in the woods. He should have thought of that before coming here after dark and trusting Richie to get them there. This was the worst idea of the century. Their mangled bodies would be found weeks from now and they would become the next best-selling horror novel. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

As the breeze picked up, so did the scattered flurry of murmuring in the shadows, unnerving him further. He froze on the spot when a piercing screech resounded in an echo, gradually disappearing into the distance. He darted his head around wildly, his raw nerves on edge. What the fuck—?

“It’s just an owl.”

Nearly jumping at hearing Richie’s voice behind him, Eddie flipped around to see him drop a bunch of thick branches onto the ground a short distance away from him before starting to pile them into a tent formation on a patch of dirt. 

Eddie wrapped his arms around himself for comfort more than anything and dutifully returned to treading the path he’d made. “Whatever. For all my luck, it’s a coyote.”

Richie’s voice was a mumble. “Like anything could digest you.” 

Eddie ignored him pointedly, continuing his frenzied pacing well past the time Richie had started a small fire, the blossoming light and heat familiar and comforting even from a distance. Even with his anxiety abated somewhat, Eddie paced and paced and paced, unsure of what else he could do.

During one of his covert inspections of Richie’s activities, he saw that Richie had rolled up a broad log invitingly close to the warm flames that appeared to be there for him, seeing how Richie had situated himself on the ground a few feet away from it, but just couldn’t get himself to settle down and join him there, as tempting as it was. If things continued the way they were going, they’d be arguing for the rest of the night—or worse, sitting in complete and awkward silence, and Eddie didn’t know if he could handle either.

It was a while before Richie’s voice floated over to him again. “Are you digging yourself a grave over there?” 

Eddie didn’t even grace him with a look. “No, I’m digging it for you.”

“Coyotes can smell fear, you know. Just like dogs.”

Could they? Fuck. “I never said I was scared.”

“You make a pretty good impression of it.”

“Well, I’m not,” Eddie snapped, then added without thinking, “I’m just cold.”

“Sit down here, then, if you’re so cold.” There was a pause. “Or I could warm you up the old way, if you’d like.”

Unexpectedly overrun by memories of how Richie used to warm him up back when they were kids, back when Eddie still allowed that kind of contact—when Richie would bring him into his chest and hold him close, so close there was hardly any space left between them, Eddie halted his frantic movement. 

Why did Richie have to bring that up now? This was the worst fucking time for it. And why did he have to keep making these stupid comments? Even after Eddie had expressly asked him to stop, he was still teasing him, still saying this kind of shit that was meant for a girl and a girl only, and for what? Just to get a reaction out of him, just to rile him up? What on Earth was he trying to accomplish by it? 

Eddie chanced a glance at him, half-expecting to see a stupid grin on his lips but Richie’s face was unreadable behind the sweep of curly bangs. His eyes were glued to the fire as he poked idly at the crackling embers with a long stick. 

Deciding it was safer to sit down—just in case Richie got some other weird ideas, Eddie begrudgingly took a seat on the log, keeping his silence. He brought his hands closer to the soothing heat of the flames, which loosened the tight knot in his chest slightly—but only just so. 

Time trickled by like molasses through an hourglass. 

A humming chorus of crickets accompanied the stretching silence, and Eddie would have laughed at how cliché it was if he wasn’t at his wit’s end. He didn’t know what to think anymore, didn’t know what to say or do. He seemed to be at a complete standstill with Richie. Nothing was going the way he’d hoped. 

With every minute that passed, the blistering tension between them seemed to rise, escalating his gnawing anxiety; he could only fidget endlessly, unable to sit still, one of his knees bouncing without rest. 

As yet another piercing shriek tore through the woods, Eddie almost dropped right off the log in his edgy state. He surveyed the surroundings warily, realizing he wasn’t going to sleep a wink that night. At least he’d managed to have a good nap before coming. It was going to be a long fucking night. 

The unexpected sound of Richie’s voice was nearly as startling. “Will you quit twitching? I told you it’s an owl.”

“So what are you, the fucking National Geographic?”

“Coyotes don’t screech, okay? They snarl and howl—sounds you should be familiar with given your domestic situation. Besides, they don’t prey on lamb chops.”

Eddie leveled a glare at him. “Do they prey on trash-talking dickwads?”

“They might once they spot my giant dick.”

“Shut up! Nobody here gives a shit about the size of your dick.”

Richie gave a hum. “Not that kind of girl, then. Got it.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“No problem, cupcake.”

“… Don’t think I won’t kick the shit out of you.”

The corner of Richie’s lips quirked. “Tall order.”

Fuck this, Eddie thought, standing up with intent. He’d crawl out if he had to. Anything was better than this. He’d rather take his chances with the snakes and the coyotes.

“Sit your ass back down.”

At the firm command in Richie’s tone, Eddie exchanged a hard, charged look with him. “Why? So you can get high off of being an obnoxious asshole?”

Richie lowered his eyes back to the fire, voice dropping. “That’s all I am to you, anyway.”

At the quiet resignation in his tone, something twisted painfully within the storm brewing inside Eddie’s chest, sharply reminding him of why he’d come here in the first place. He felt so tired of this. He didn’t want to do this anymore… couldn’t go on arguing like this. It was killing him inside. He was willing to do anything to stop it; and he wanted to say the words he’d come here to say—so much.

He wanted to sit by Richie’s side and look into his eyes, tell him that it wasn’t true, ask for forgiveness, ask him to please, please understand that he’d never meant to hurt him, never meant the things he said, that he was just angry or maybe something else he couldn’t quite name, tell him that he did need him—needed him so fucking much it was driving him insane. 

But he couldn’t get himself to, in part because it was so far out from anything he’d ever revealed of himself to Richie and he was scared, far too scared to show such weakness to him, to let Richie see that hidden, vulnerable side of him, but also because he couldn’t really expect Richie to understand, not when Eddie couldn’t understand any of it himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, knowing that it was inadequate, that it wasn’t nearly enough to amend for his transgressions, but unable to force anything else past his lips. He could only hope Richie knew him well enough to get what he was apologizing for—maybe even understand some of what Eddie desperately wanted him to understand.

At Richie’s persistent silence, Eddie sat back down and curled up, subdued by his guilt. With all the anger drained out of him, all that was left a vast field of emptiness, a grey desolation filled with loneliness and sorrow, and in his mind, at the very core of his consciousness… he was back within his dream. 

He was fumbling around in the spine-chilling darkness looking for an escape, surrounded by his fears and doubts that only pulled him further under, choking the very last breath out of him; he was struggling against it, clawing his way out to look for something that was there—just beyond his reach, but he didn’t know himself what it was he was reaching for, what he needed to keep him warm and safe. 

He felt cold, almost frozen inside… and so very alone. Even with Richie right there beside him, he’d never felt so alone. 

There was a gaping hole in his chest that was slowly sapping his entire existence, and he knew there was something he was desperately missing—he could feel it every time he broke out of his dream in the clenches of anxiety, every waking moment, with every breath he drew, but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe he never would. 

Maybe… he was just broken. Incomplete.

By the time Richie finally broke the deafening silence, Eddie had almost resigned himself to it for the remainder of the night. 

“Bev and I are not together.”

Struck by the unexpected words, Eddie looked up at him, sure he’d heard wrong. Richie was resting his chin on top of his knees, the golden tones of the fire reflected in the brown eyes that felt warmer, softer now. Torn between disbelief and the confusing emotion that was welling up inside of him, Eddie didn’t immediately answer. “You’re not?”

“No,” Richie said, adding a few branches to the dwindling fire. “I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but you didn’t want to listen.”

Eddie hesitated. “But… I saw you.”

“What—in the Physics lab?” Richie asked with a dry huff. “Whatever it is you think you saw, I was just hugging her for helping me with something.” He paused, picking at a bur stuck in his shoelaces. “And that day you saw her at my place… she only dropped by to bring me concealer for the bruise cause I didn’t really want anyone to know, least of all you. She wasn’t going to stay but then you came and… well, anyway—I owe her a lot. She’s been a really good friend.”

Unlike me, Eddie thought bitterly, because Richie’s words only made him feel worse about himself. Whether he was telling the truth or not, Eddie had been a horrible friend to the both of them, acting like some wounded-ego-school-girl, getting that damn _feeling_ every time he saw them together and then allowing his anger to step out of line. 

Even now, despite knowing all of it, he still couldn’t stop his traitorous thoughts from escaping his lips. “She was wearing your shirt.”

“Wearing my—” Richie searched his face, as though trying to understand something before it seemed to dawn on him. “Wait, you thought we…?”

Eddie didn’t respond, already regretting his words. He cast his face down, scraping his thumb against a chipping piece of bark on his log. He wanted Richie to say it was not like that at all—desperately needed to hear it, to believe what Richie was saying; but it was not his place to ask… not his place to know.

“Eds…”

Eddie flicked the bark away. “Why are you telling me this, anyway?”

“I just thought… it was bothering you.”

“Why would it?” Eddie shot back far too quickly because he didn’t want to be that obvious, didn’t want Richie to know. After all, he had no valid reason to be bothered by it, none at all.

“You don’t have to get mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he snapped, annoyed at disproving his own point. 

“I would say you are.”

“Well nobody asked you, did they.”

Eddie was about to regret his outburst, worrying it would spiral them back into the horrible silence, but Richie’s improved mood seemed to hold, his face brightening slightly just before he grunted in the back of his throat as though remembering something. “I know what’ll make you feel better.”

“If it’s another dick joke, I’m stuffing your mouth with coal.”

Richie actually gave a soft laugh. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard him laugh—or even seen him smile. The sound warmed his heart more than any fire could. 

“As hot as that sounds, I’d rather stuff my mouth with these,” Richie said, pulling a small paper bag out of his pocket and dangling it in mid-air. “They might be a bit squished, but they should still taste good toasted.”

“… You remembered to bring the marshmallows but forgot your way there,” Eddie commented dryly but without bite, relieved as he was by the dissipating tension. He should have apologized right from the beginning. “Genius.”

“I didn’t forget my way, I lost my way. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t see it,” Eddie mumbled, watching Richie impale one of the fluffy treats onto a stick and hold it over the fire. “And if you think I’m eating anything that’s touched that dirty thing, you’re sorely mistaken. I can see all the funguses growing on it from here.”

“Fungi. Like me.”

“Whatever. It looks like mold and I’m not having it.”

Richie looked so disappointed, you’d think he brought them just for Eddie. “Come on, Eddie… I’ve got nothing else to toast it with. You don’t have to eat the middle part.”

“Still not eating it.”

“… Then I’ll have them all. And I’ve got quite a few.”

At Richie’s mildly devious look, Eddie backtracked quickly. “Okay fine, I’ll have one—just one. We’ll both have one, then you’re putting them away.” 

There was a slight upturn to Richie’s lips. “Just wait, I make the best toasted marshmallows. You’ll be begging for seconds.”

“I don’t beg.”

“Bet I could get you to.”

Eddie was still wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean when Richie pulled the stick out of the fire and blew slightly on the perfectly golden marshmallow before handing it over to him. Eddie popped it into his mouth, momentarily losing himself in the melty, honeyed taste that washed pleasantly over his taste buds. Fuck, he hadn’t had one of these in forever, he’d forgotten how good they were. He pulled his bottom lip in, scraping the sticky remains off. And Richie was right, it did kind of make him feel better. It was probably the sugar.

He glanced at Richie’s paper bag in what he hoped was a surreptitious manner, but knew he was caught when Richie chuckled. “You want another one, don’t you.”

Eddie refused to smile, biting on the inside of his lip. “No.”

“Come on, just one more. You know you want it.”

“I said I don’t.”

“Then maybe you’d like a tissue to wipe the drool off your chin.”

Eddie’s smile finally cracked. “Shut up, you ass.”

“Have another and I will.”

Eddie feigned annoyance, though he knew it wasn’t fooling anyone. “… Alright, fine. Just one more.”

“You’re so funny,” Richie said with a shake of his head, poking through a second marshmallow. Lowering his stick back into the fire, he added quietly, almost to himself, “It wouldn’t kill you to admit that you want something for once.”

Eddie resumed chewing on his lip, carefully side-stepping the flustered feeling rising in his chest. He caught Richie adjusting his position with a strained wince, wondering why he chose to sit on the ground instead of getting himself another log. Maybe he couldn’t find another. It couldn’t be very comfortable down there. Nevertheless, he couldn’t suggest to him that they share the one he had—it was barely long enough to fit two people and there was no way Eddie was sitting that close to him for the rest of the night. 

Once Richie handed him over the second marshmallow, he was about to ask if Richie wanted to switch places with him for a little while, but Richie beat him to it, speaking up first.

“Redkin’s coming back to school next week,” he said, his gaze fixed on Eddie warily. “Last I heard, anyway.”

Eddie opened his mouth then closed it, deciding to just grunt a confirmation instead because he’d heard of it too. His visits to the office that week hadn’t been entirely fruitless. “I’m surprised they didn’t kick him out yet, it’s his fourth suspension this year,” he said, swallowing down his treat. “It would certainly be nice if he never came back.”

“Eddie… that guy is dangerous—and crazy. He almost ended up in juvie last year for sticking a knife into his neighbour’s leg cause he thought he was looking at him funny.”

Eddie nodded, knowing this as well. It was amazing how much gossip was exchanged within a short hour at the office. “Told you he’s unhinged. What’s your point?”

“Promise me you’ll stay away from him,” Richie said, voice thick with unease. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes that told Eddie he wasn’t going to back off. “Please.”

Eddie sighed, slightly annoyed. He despised feeling weak or any kind of allusions to it. Being made fun of for being short his entire life made him feel shitty enough. “I wasn’t planning on starting another fight with him, if that’s what you’re asking. I can’t speak for him though.”

There was a heavy pause. “You’ve got to stay close to me.”

“Richie… don’t start with this shit again.”

“What—you’re going to tell me you’re not worried? You broke his nose. He’s probably feeling pretty fucking humiliated by it, too. He’s bound to do something.”

Going by the look Red gave him in the parking lot, Eddie was sure he would, but felt surprised by how little he cared. He was a bit worried, yes, but not nearly as much as he knew he should be. “So what do you want me to do—stay home for the rest of the year? Hide under my bed?”

“No, I want you to stay close to me,” Richie insisted determinedly. “Let me drive you again—both ways.”

“I still go to the library after school, you know,” Eddie pointed out, doing his best not to let his annoyance take over. 

“So ditch it. How much more can you learn in a week?”

“Richie… drop it,” Eddie said with a clear warning in his tone. He softened slightly at the apprehensive look on Richie’s face. “I’ll just avoid him as best as I can, okay? Is that good?” 

At the uneasy silence that fell upon them, he shifted around on the log to relieve the pins and needles in his bottom, only to have the pointed tip of a dead branch dig into his back. He snapped it clean off and tossed it into the fire, watching it burn. If only necks were as easily snapped. 

“You said there’s something he knows,” Eddie said after a while, because the question never left his mind and curiosity was getting the better of him. “What is it?”

There was a perceptible change in Richie’s posture, a sort of awkward tension. Grabbing a few pieces of wood, he tossed them into the fire, watching the smoky flames rise with renewed intensity over the crackling cinders. “I carved something on the Kissing Bridge, years ago,” he finally mumbled, clearly uncomfortable. “And… sometimes I go back there, just to look at it. Stupid, I know.” 

He paused to pluck a thick weed from underfoot and twisted it round between his fingers, face drawn and shuttered. “When I was there last—about a month ago, I guess—he happened to drive by. He stopped just to be a jackass, you know, but… I was carving over the same words, see—and… he saw what it was. And he figured something out, he…” Richie shook his head sorrowfully, trailing off.

Eddie took a minute to pick the story apart in his mind, not quite getting the picture. The fact that Richie had carved something on the Bridge wasn’t in the least surprising; most everyone in town had at one time or another—be it their own names, their sweethearts’ names, or just some stupid little messages they wanted to immortalize for all posterity; and if Eddie were to guess, Richie’s carving would probably fit somewhere in the third category. What he couldn’t understand was the connection it had to him, because clearly—there was one.

“What the hell did you carve?”

Richie shrugged a little. “It wasn’t anything about you. I mean—I didn’t expose some secret about you or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not that you have any to expose.”

“What, then?”

The silence that followed was so plainly dismissive, Eddie decided not to push on. It was obvious that Richie didn’t want him to know what he’d carved, and Eddie didn’t really need to know. He was mostly just curious. It was probably something immeasurably stupid. 

Why Richie thought it somehow influenced the things Red did to Eddie was beyond him. Red had been picking on him for years—right from the first year of high school. If Richie was right about one thing, it was that Red was just a jackass; a stupid, brainless prick. 

“Hey, look… fireflies.”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Eddie followed Richie’s gaze into the distance, taking a few seconds to spot what he was seeing. A sea of tiny lights flickered through the faint outline of the thick weeds that were standing tall amidst encompassing darkness; it was eerie yet strangely compelling. He’d never seen anything quite like it.

“Shit…” he swore under his breath, not sharing in Richie’s wonderment. “What the fuck is that?”

“Will you quit imagining the worst every time? They’re fireflies.” Standing up, Richie stretched out his back and retrieved his flashlight from his pocket. “I’m going to go grab one. Stay here.”

“You’re going to what?!” Eddie hissed in alarm, instantly jumping to his feet. “Are you fucking serious? Do you even know what that neon green stuff they’re putting out is—fuck, they’re probably poisonous or radioactive or some shit! Why do you always need to touch everything?”

Richie looked amused more than anything. “You’re just too funny. I’ll be back in a second, okay?”

Eddie groaned in aggravation, watching him take off in the direction of the moving cloud of lights. When he returned a short while later, he was holding his cupped hands up to his chest, flashlight tucked under his arm. He dropped it onto the grass and grinned at him broadly, his features giddy with excitement. 

Eddie wanted to strangle him. Even at eighteen, Richie could be such a child. “What did you have to bring it here for?”

“I wanted us to see it up close.”

“… Us? Who told you I want to see it?”

“Come on, you’ve gotta see it,” Richie urged, peering into his cupped hands. “It’s not like I’m asking you to hold it. It’s really cool.”

“What are you, ten? It’s just a bug.”

“A really cool bug—with a glowing ass. How many things can you say that about?”

“None that I care to look at. I happen to have no interest in asses.”

Richie snickered, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Liar. I saw you checking out my ass the day we went to the mall.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, dropping back onto his log. “Yeah, cause you asked me to. A couple billion times.”

“Still counts.”

“Well, I have no interest in looking at a bug’s ass, is that okay?”

“You mean—as opposed to mine?”

Eddie almost regretted not being closer to the leftover stockpile of wood because he was itching to throw something at Richie’s stupidly smug face. He feigned an exasperated sigh. “If I look at it, will you leave me alone?”

Richie’s smirk broadened in response. Without warning, he slid onto the log next to him, angling towards him to bring his cupped hands to his eye level. Eddie felt himself stiffen, instantly aware of how closely they were sitting. The faint mix of vanilla and honey drifted over to him, despite there being no breeze. Richie must have washed his hair that day.

Telling himself it was just for a little while and doing his best to appear nonchalant about it, Eddie squinted through the opening in Richie’s hands, trying to focus on finding whatever he was supposed to be looking at in there. He caught the movement of something small fluttering its tiny wings just before its hind end lit up, emanating a soft neon glow that was almost ethereal in quality. 

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Fuck me, that’s…” 

“Cool, right?”

“Okay, fine,” Eddie conceded, only because he couldn’t find a better way to describe it. He felt himself smile as the little wonder flashed on and off like a beacon, crawling to and fro. “Are you sure this thing’s not radioactive? It certainly looks like it.”

“Pretty sure they glow to attract mates, not liquefy them. Kinda wish I could get my dick to glow in the dark like that.”

Eddie snorted in amusement, pulling away from Richie’s hands to look at him. Richie’s face was so close he could see the flecks of green in his eyes. “Then I’d have to find you a new shirt that says ‘Warning: Radioactive’.”

Richie’s laugh was soft and genuine, and so very striking. Irresistible. “… You’re fucking adorable sometimes, you know that?” 

The naked affection in his face cut off Eddie’s breath, taking him aback. In that moment, Richie looked so radiant, so… stunning. Eddie had missed seeing him like this so damn much. 

He swallowed with difficulty past the sudden dryness in his throat, feeling hopelessly nervous even after Richie took his turn to peer at the trapped firefly. His warm smile washed over Eddie again and again, awakening something buried deeply within his chest—still veiled but already perceptible, something that threatened to permeate every fiber of his being. 

Their renewed closeness, the familiar comfort of having the old Richie back was so insanely alluring, so good to have within his grasp again, Eddie never wanted to let it go. 

Instead, he wanted to get closer. 

He was quickly becoming aware of a growing need inside of him, a most inappropriate need to reach out and bring Richie’s face closer, to run his hands through the dark curls to test if they were really as soft as they looked, to press into the solid frame beside him, to breathe him in, to… _something_.

The sheer intensity of it hit him like a brick wall.

All of a sudden, his heart was racing rabidly in his chest to restrain the overpowering emotion that was struggling to break free, break through the iron-barred walls he’d put up against it—maybe years ago, when he’d first realized its dawn at the edge of his consciousness. Even now, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—acknowledge it. It was scaring the shit out of him. 

He turned his face away sharply, forcing it down with the very last ounce of his strength. He felt sick with it… nauseated. Feverish. Desperately confused.

“Hey, wanna see it again?”

Eddie gave a slight shake of his head, not trusting himself to speak. He didn’t turn to look at him, terrified of what Richie might see in his face.

“… What’s wrong?”

“Just—let it go free,” Eddie finally got himself to mumble if only because he desperately needed Richie to move away, feeling mortified at how shaky he sounded. 

There was a pause. “Okay… it’s gone.”

When Richie didn’t immediately get up to go, Eddie made a move to slide away from him but Richie’s hand upon his arm stopped him. The heat of Richie’s fingers seeped through the thick material of his long-sleeve polo, sending a shiver up his arm.

“Eds… tell me why we’re here.”

Eddie closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling unsteadily. “You got us lost.”

Richie’s voice grew quiet, almost pleading. “… Just tell me.”

“It was Bill’s idea. Ask him.”

“I’m asking you.”

Eddie remained quiet, face burning hotter than the fire crackling beside them. There was a fervent, agitated fluttering in his stomach that made him want to push Richie away, take off at a run, forget the maddening feeling in his chest because it didn’t belong there. It didn’t.

“Can you look at me…?”

Eddie couldn’t move a single muscle. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore. After a long, painfully tense moment, he felt warm fingers sliding tentatively against his. “Is this okay?” Richie’s nervous murmur followed. “Is it okay?”

One of them was trembling but Eddie couldn’t tell which. Maybe both. He wanted to shake his hand free, say ‘No’, because this wasn’t right, God, it wasn’t right—but he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

“Honey… please look at me.”

Momentarily struck, Eddie turned to him out of pure reflex but once he was caught in Richie’s dark, searching gaze, he couldn’t get himself to look away. 

Richie’s eyes were so intense, so focused in their search for something… something he seemed to find just before his long eyelashes lowered, Eddie’s name a quiet whisper upon his lips. Even as his face started moving in closer with clear intent, Eddie felt rooted to the spot, unable to snap himself out of his trance. His body wasn’t listening to him.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. 

The wild beat of his own heart was deafening to his ears, his breath trapped in his lungs. The warmth of Richie’s touch, the wave of his curls, the familiar sweet scent were hypnotic beyond reason, making him lightheaded and weak. He was all Eddie could see, all he could process. He utterly invaded all of Eddie’s senses. 

When Richie’s gaze dropped to his mouth, Eddie felt his lips part against his will. 

_Yes_ , a little voice whispered in the back of his head, _this is what you want_. It’s what you’ve wanted since the first time it happened. 

But when the grasp of Richie’s fingers tightened around his own and his warm, trembling breath fell against Eddie’s lips—

—that’s when it got all too real for Eddie. 

Recoiling in a panic, Eddie stumbled backwards in a clumsy attempt to get himself into an upright position, nearly falling over his own feet in the process. His whole body shivered in shock as they stared at each other mutely for a few agonizing moments until the horror-stricken confusion in Richie’s face registered in Eddie’s brain, jolting him into action.

Oh, fuck. What had he done? 

“I—I’ll be right back,” Eddie stammered, lunging for the cover of darkness. Ripping through the thicket until he was out of Richie’s sight, he rounded a large tree and fell back against it, sliding himself down to the ground. He pressed the heels of his palms into his face, screwing his eyes shut.

He wanted that kiss—oh, God. He wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in his life. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him? What did that even make him? He was so screwed up. 

_Fucking faggot_.

At the resounding taunt within his skull, Eddie shook his head vehemently, the surrounding chill seeping into him bone deep. That’s not what he was. He couldn’t be. He’d never looked at other guys that way, never wanted such things from them, not ever. 

Richie was the only one who had ever made him feel this way, the only one that made him long for that closeness, and that was only because… because—

Oh, fuck. _Fuck_.

Faced with the terrifying realization, he smashed his fist back against the tree until the ridges dug into his skin painfully, his heart swelling with sorrow to the point of near bursting. He struck harder, the shock in Richie’s face ablaze in his memory.

Why did Richie have to draw it out of him? What the fuck was he even thinking doing such a thing in the first place—why did he have to keep playing his stupid games with him? It wasn’t enough that he was flirting with half the female population at school? The stupid idiot always had to do whatever the hell he wanted without any concern for boundaries or consequences, without realizing or caring how it was going to affect others around him. 

This time, he’d gone too far—revealed too much of Eddie. There was no return from this. Richie saw something in his face, he was sure of it. Now that Richie knew… 

How was Eddie ever going to face him again?

He should have never come here with him. He had a feeling it would turn out to be a huge mistake, and it did—it was worse than anything he could have possibly imagined.

It was the cold and chilling darkness that finally forced Eddie to return to the fire after a good chunk of time had passed. He’d seriously considered staying behind his tree for the rest of the night, hardly even caring that his fingertips were starting to grow numb, but he knew Richie would come looking for him eventually; despite the shit that happened, Richie wasn’t going to let him freeze out here.

As he approached their little campground with his heart in his throat, he was deeply relieved to see that Richie’s face was turned away from him, not even budging at the sound of his footsteps. He was back in his old spot on the ground, his knees drawn into his chest and his arms weaved tightly around them with his head lying on top, angled away and hidden behind a thick wave of hair. 

Briefly, Eddie wondered if Richie regretted spurring him on—maybe as much as Eddie regretted giving into it. The weight of the reality of things had probably sunk in for him just the same as it did for Eddie, but there was no taking it back now that it was out in the open. 

Neither one of them was drunk this time. Neither one of them could pretend it never happened or simply forget that it did.

Pressing his lips together bitterly, Eddie dropped down to the grass by the fire facing away from him and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the burn of the flames against his back. Shutting his eyes tightly, he willed himself to sleep because he couldn’t handle the grating feelings in his chest; the shame, the guilt, the confusion. He just wanted it all to go away, at least for a little while. At least until he was able to process it all in some way that made sense and figure out what he was going to do about it.

It wasn’t until much later that he’d finally drifted off with a sickening ache in his chest.

~

When he woke up to the jarring chirps of the early birds, Richie’s hoodie and jacket were covering him and his body felt stiff as a board.

Richie found his way back to the car in record time, keeping his hood on the entire time. 

Neither of them spoke on the ride back. It was the longest seven minutes of Eddie’s life.


	8. Chapter 8

The first time Eddie realized there was something wrong with him was when he was fourteen.

It was summer time and he was at the Quarry with the others, soaking up the sun and enjoying the warm water, as they often did back then—when life was so much easier. 

The day had gone by normal enough until they took turns diving off the cliff. Eddie could still remember standing at the edge of it when his turn came about, staring at the sparkling surface of the small lake and struggling with the decision to take the plunge when Richie unexpectedly grabbed him at a run and jumped in with him together. 

When they hit the water, Richie’s arms tightened around him against the force that was wedging in to separate them as he clung closely to his back, and while it wasn’t the first time Richie’s half-naked body slid up against him, not by far, it was the first time Eddie had reacted to it—in a way he had never reacted to anyone else before that day. 

Becoming aware of it as they came back up for air was as confusing as it was terrifying. He simply didn’t know what to make of it. The only thing he knew for sure was that it wasn’t right—because Richie was his friend as well as a guy, and… Eddie wasn’t like that.

He covered up for his embarrassment by cursing Richie out for his stupid stunt all the while feeling mortified with himself, resolved never to let it happen again.

After that, he started shying away from Richie’s touch, no matter how small or insignificant, and for the most part succeeded—until that year, when Richie came up to his room and pushed himself into his space.

Eddie had never forgotten about that kiss, not really. 

He told himself he did—made a pretty good pretense of it to himself; but it was always there in the back of his mind, like a splinter that only worked its way in deeper despite all efforts to drive it out, bothering at him every time he caught a glimpse of his scar in the mirror. 

Also there, in the very recesses of his mind, he knew… 

He wanted to feel Richie’s lips on him again.

~

Shooting up in his bed in a cold sweat, Eddie ran straight for the bathroom, the intensity of his anxiety emptying out his stomach. Wiping at his mouth with a shaky hand, he dropped down to the cool ceramic tiles and leaned back against the bathtub, night shirt damp and sticky. 

The distorted voices were still echoing in his head, the turmoil in his chest as alive as ever. 

Sunday had gone by quickly, far too quickly. Now that he was faced with the dreaded Monday morning, the thought of seeing Richie again terrified him more than anything Red could ever do. He’d convinced himself to go to school if only because he couldn’t stand spending another whole day with his mother, but he was still agonizing over his decision. Even if he managed to completely avoid Richie throughout the day, he still had a Math class second period. And then there was the rest of the week to worry about…

How was he going to get through this? 

He wasn’t ready to talk to Richie. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. What was he even supposed to say to him? And what if Richie decided to tease him about it? He didn’t think he could stand that.

Once his breathing slowed down, he forced himself to get up to splash cold water onto his face, carefully avoiding locking eyes with his own reflection. Loading his toothbrush with toothpaste, he flipped his miniature sand timer and started brushing his teeth vigorously. 

He was on the third flip when he heard his mother’s voice calling out into the room. “Eddie, is everything okay? You’re up early.”

Eddie spit up some toothpaste before replying, his hoarse voice carrying across. “I’m fine.”

“Are you going to school today?”

Eddie opened his mouth to say yes and almost said no. Almost. But even if he stayed home that day, he couldn’t hide out for the rest of the year. Not at home, anyway. “Yeah, I’ll be down in a bit.”

After a quick shower, he combed through his hair with his fingers and picked out a short sleeve t-shirt and jeans, the blinding sun in the window promising a warm April day. As he slipped into his outfit, he contemplated the two paper figurines sitting idly on the comic book stack on his desk. 

He was spending too much time around Richie—that had to be the answer. They were too close, too… involved with each other. Ever since they were kids, they did everything together, day in and day out. And it was confusing him—that was the only way his feelings made sense. All he needed was to redirect his focus to someone else, someone more appropriate… like a girl. Maybe he hadn’t been paying them enough attention.

Grabbing his backpack, he hurried past the mirror hung on the closet door and made his way down the stairs.

A box of cereal and jug of milk were waiting for him on the table alongside an empty bowl and a glass of orange juice. His mother was standing at the stove with her apron digging into her belly, her hair still in its sleeping net, a wooden spatula held in one hand. The greasy smell of fried eggs and bacon filled the small room, making Eddie’s stomach roll. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but… 

“Don’t forget your pills,” she said to him as he dropped into his seat, like he hadn’t been taking them every damn morning for years. “You’re already looking like you’re about to fall over.”

Eddie poured himself a small helping of cereal and drowned it out with milk before sliding the tablets off the paper doily directly into his mouth and gulping them down with juice. He dug into the cereal, planning on scarfing it down before his mother could start on him again, but his spoonful froze mid-air as the all-too-familiar smell of honey oats broke through the smog and hit his nose. 

His mother peered at him. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“N-nothing,” he stammered as realization struck him hard. He’d switched to this cereal… fuck, just about a year back. He still remembered asking his mother to buy it for him, sure that he would like it. Somehow, he’d never realized before—that it smelled very much like…

He pushed the bowl away so abruptly the milk splashed out, his stomach doing a sickening flip. Oh, God.

“I think I’ll have jelly on toast today,” he mumbled, his insides twisting up into knots. At his mother’s questioning look, he added, “I… don’t like this cereal anymore.”

While his mother (begrudgingly) catered to his request, he fiddled in his seat, feeling more nervous than ever. What if Richie cornered him after Math class? Forced him to talk about things? Could Eddie even look him in the eye anymore? He was never good at dealing with this kind of stuff, and this was by far the worst situation he’d ever found himself in. What the hell was he going to do?

By the time the platter of cut-up jellied toast was slid in front of him, he was ready to refuse it, certain that he couldn’t possibly stomach it. His mother’s heavy gaze on him convinced him otherwise.

He picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite, swallowing with difficulty. “I’m going to walk to school today.” 

“Why? I’ll drive you.”

He forced another piece down. “I want to walk.” 

“Eddie, you’ve barely eaten anything for the past week—I’m surprised you’re still standing,” his mother said, retrieving a plate for herself and dumping her breakfast into it. “A stiff breeze will blow you over.”

“I’m eating now.”

She sat down opposite of him and fixed him with a severe stare, face drawn into a disapproving expression. Oh no, Eddie thought, forcing himself to go faster. Here it comes.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s going on with you… and I think you need to see a shrink.”

Eddie nearly choked, coughing up what got stuck in his throat before staring up at her in shock, having expected something entirely different. “What??”

His mother’s face only grew more determined. “Eddie, you hardly eat and you look like you barely sleep. You only come home at supper time, then you’re cooped up in your room for hours. I never see you anymore. You don’t... you don’t want to tell me anything. And it just—” her breath hitched, her lips pursing tightly, “—it reminds me of your father in his last days.”

“Mom… please.”

She waved her hand not to be interrupted, eyes filling up with tears. “He was always in bed, weak as a newborn lamb, barely saying a word to me except when he begged me to stop feeding him. But I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him starve himself. Then, one day, he just… refused to eat. He wouldn’t let me help him. All I could do was watch him waste away.” She paused to dab at her glistening eyes with the corner of her apron. “I’m so scared for you, Eddie. You’re going to end up like him, I know it.”

Eddie swallowed what was in his mouth, the toast scraping past his dry throat like sandpaper. He didn’t need this right now—or ever. He couldn’t really remember his father’s last days because he was only six at the time, but he’d heard his mother talking about it before, and he didn’t want to listen to it again; it was still painful to hear—every time. Eddie still missed him. And he couldn’t handle it right now.

“Mom… it’s not like that. Dad had cancer. He was very sick.”

“You’re making yourself sick, too! How long can you last like this?”

Eddie set his jaw. Why did everyone have to make him feel like he was weak and helpless? He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. “I’m just not that hungry these days, what’s wrong with that? I’m not dying. And I’m not seeing a shrink.”

“Eddie, please, you’re not well—”

“Stop, okay?” Eddie cut her off, feeling fed up. “Please, just stop. You don’t understand anything.”

“I want to but you won’t let me understand!”

You would _never_ understand, Eddie wanted to throw at her. Not ever. 

Everything she ever thought she understood about him was bullshit. She had no idea who he was, and she didn’t want to know. All he had ever revealed of himself to her had been wrong or not good enough; always jumped to be ‘corrected’ because it was never what she wanted it to be. Sometimes he wondered why she had him at all. She didn’t seem to want a son—she only wanted another doll in her collection. And Eddie was getting tired of playing the part.

“What is it that you want to understand?” he snapped, unable to help himself. “I’m not feeling well, it happens. It doesn’t mean I’m going to lie down and die—I’m not trying to starve myself. I’ll eat more, if that makes you so happy.”

His mother shook her head. “Eddie, I know how you feel, I do… you’re just lonely. I’ve been the same way since your father died. Why won’t you let me help you?”

“I’m not lonely,” Eddie bit out, knowing all too well it was a lie. 

“I know you are, you have that look in your eyes—the same look I saw in the mirror day after day for years after your daddy died,” she choked out. “You’re hurting, don’t think I don’t know it. I’m your mother. Please let me help you.”

Eddie fixed his eyes on the bowl of cereal in front of him. “You can’t help me.”

His mother was quiet for a while, sniffling into her handkerchief. “Why can’t you take Allison out? I know she was a bit shy last time, but she’s a nice girl—I can tell. Her family doesn’t live all that far, and… I really think you should get to know her.”

“Allison? She didn’t even like me!”

“You’re wrong! Why would you say that? There’s nothing not to like… She was just feeling a little poorly herself, what with her mother being ill. You thought she was nice, didn’t you?”

She certainly wasn’t to Eddie. “… I don’t know.”

“That’s because you barely spoke to her last time. Why don’t you give her another chance?”

Eddie released a sigh, finding himself actually considering it. Maybe… maybe he really didn’t give her a fair chance. After all, he was in a pretty bad mood himself that night. Maybe if he tried to be nicer, friendlier… maybe her attitude would improve, too. 

Ah fuck, what the hell. He could give it a try, couldn’t he? At least she was a girl. 

“Fine, I’ll take her out on Saturday,” he said irritably, telling himself it was his decision, not his mother’s; he wasn’t just giving in—wasn’t just going along with things. “But I can’t make any promises about how it’s going to turn out.”

His mother’s face brightened somewhat, obviously relieved. “Really, Eddie-bear? Will you really?” Her damp cheeks stretched into a smile. “I’m sure you’ll get along… I’m sure of it. You make a great match.”

Eddie shot her a resentful glance, almost pitying her. For one so keen on nitpicking the smallest details, she was as oblivious to reality as a mole thrown into the light. A great match? Even if they somehow managed to get along, they would never make a great match—not ever. It was sickening just how little she knew him. 

“Okay, I’m off,” he said, pushing his plate away and standing up to go. His mother came around the table to press a kiss to his cheek while giving him one of her bear hugs, which he tolerated. “I’ll be home for supper.”

He wasn’t in any kind of rush to get to school with the two problems awaiting him there, but he was done here. In many ways, facing Red was easier. And Richie… well.

He would just have to do his best to avoid them both.

~

His intention failed the minute he stepped foot into the school.

Rounding the corner to the main hallway, he heard the cheers and yells first. Then… he saw them.

In the midst of a growing crowd of students, Richie was straddling Red on the floor, repeatedly driving his white-knuckled bloodied fist into his face with a ferocity Eddie had never seen in him before. His expression was twisted into a nasty scowl, utterly stripped of all of its usual buoyancy. It was pure venom.

Eddie’s breath lodged painfully in his throat. 

Before he could react, he saw Red struggle to buck him one last time, gaining enough leverage to drive his fist into Richie’s ribs, causing him to falter and drop forward. In that moment, Red whisked something out of his pocket and held it up over Richie’s back with obvious intent, releasing the glinting blade out into the light.

In paralyzing panic, Richie’s name erupted from Eddie’s lungs before he could even form a thought, the naked horror in his pitch making his voice unrecognizable to his own ears. His call drew an instant reaction out of Richie, who turned just in time to catch Red’s wrist and bring it down to the floor with bruising force. With a pronounced snarl, he smashed it into the ceramic floor over and over again until Red’s knuckles smeared red onto its smooth surface and the knife dropped from his grip with a loud clang. 

Seeing Red grab a handful of Richie’s hair in a tight grip while they scuffled, Eddie ran towards them in a rage, making his way through the crowd just as a number of teachers did the same, alerted by the commotion. They rushed in to separate them, nearly getting knocked down in the process by the sheer volatility of the fight.

Moments later, the principal was pushing his way in from the other side, looking more incensed than Eddie had ever seen him.

Eddie stood along with other onlookers, seized by a potent mix of anger and guilt, chest rising and falling rapidly. This had something to do with him, he was sure of it. After the things Richie said to him at the Barrens, he had a feeling something like this was going to happen, that Richie would do some stupid shit thinking he was protecting him. But endangering himself like this… what the hell was he thinking??

“What’s the meaning of all this?!” the principal nearly shouted after surveying the floor, where the hunting knife stood out amidst a splatter of red.

Red shook out of the teachers’ hold on him with contempt, breathing heavily through his nose, his glare trained on Richie. His face looked even worse than it had the previous week, blood smeared across dark, swollen tissue on the side of his face where Richie had been punching him. 

“He started it,” someone said with a point in Richie’s direction. “He’s bat-shit crazy—he just jumped Red out of the blue.”

Eddie looked over at Richie in hope of an answer because he knew better than to believe that, but Richie’s head was turned away from him. Something must have provoked him. Red must have said or done _something_. Richie would have never jumped him without cause. It wasn’t like Richie—at all. Richie was not a violent person. 

Across from him, the principal was studying him as well, a deep crease in his forehead. “Mr. Tozier, is that correct?” 

Richie remained silent as he picked himself off the floor, bloodied hands still fisted at his sides, angling his back towards Eddie.

“He’s a fucking queer,” Red spat at Richie’s prolonged silence. “All he does is hang around that little pussy friend of his,” he added with a glance in Eddie’s direction, lip curled in disgust. “It’s like a freak show around here.”

Eddie tensed at the words, scowling at him in turn. He was so fucking sick of him and his innuendos. Why did he have to keep calling them that? It’s like he was fixated on them, on making their lives miserable—and why? What the hell was his problem? Nothing warranted this, regardless of what Richie might have carved on the Bridge or whatever fuck else Red justified this shit to himself with. If there were any freaks around, it was him. Eddie wanted to smash his stupid face in until his skull caved in. 

The principal loosened his tie, looking just about as done with it himself. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this. I’m not even going to start on the language use, but bringing a weapon into my school? Completely unacceptable—completely. Don’t think I won’t be alerting the authorities, Mr. Redkin, because this has gone quite far enough. Both of you – to my office. Right now.”

“Freak,” Red snarled at Richie with malice, clearly pissed. “Like I want to attend some faggot school anyway. You sicken me, always staring at Kaspbrack like you’re—”

His words were brutality cut short when Richie lunged and slammed him back against the lockers with a fierce look on his face, hissing the words “Shut the fuck up” as they got back into grappling with each other before being pried apart again, the principal’s face turning a scathing red. 

Instructing the teachers to haul them away in the direction of the office, the principal only paused to pick up the knife before following them, too preoccupied to even bother telling everyone off to their classes. He didn’t have to, anyway. Once they were gone, the crowd quickly dispersed.

Eddie lingered behind until Richie disappeared behind the double doors, then slowly made his way to his locker, the incident weighing heavily on his mind. Richie was going to get suspended for this, he was sure of it. It was his second fight within two weeks—and by the looks of it, he started this one. And it was all Eddie’s goddamn fault. 

He just couldn’t understand it—what the hell could Red have done to provoke such an explosive reaction out of Richie?

When he finally got to his locker, he had his answer.

Spray-canned in dark red letters, standing out as grotesquely as if it had been written in blood were two words— 

—‘FILTHY FAGGOT’.

In a fit of temper, Eddie drove his fist into the grey sheet of metal, nearly boiling over with hatred.

That fucking twisted bastard.

~

Eddie’s mood hadn’t improved a great deal by second period, when Bill found him cleaning off his locker with paint thinner borrowed from the Art class. 

To his dismay, spray paint wasn’t all that easy to remove. He’d missed the first class working on it and didn’t think he was going to make it to the second one, either. Not that he really cared. Even knowing the damage had already been done and the rumors had surely spread throughout the entire school by now, there was no way he was going to leave it there for everyone to snicker at.

“Hey, I heard what happened,” Bill said quietly, confirming his suspicions. He almost sounded apologetic. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t the one fighting.”

“I know, just… you never told me Red was calling you these kind of names.”

“He didn’t always,” Eddie muttered blandly, keeping at his task. 

“If it makes you feel any better, it doesn’t look like he’ll be coming back this year. I saw a Police cruiser outside, pretty sure they’re taking this seriously… seeing how he tried to stab Richie and all. I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. Glad he’s okay, though.”

Eddie made a grunt in the back of his throat. It was about time they kicked him out. Richie had been right when he said Red was crazy and dangerous. He certainly didn’t belong in a school. Eddie still got a sick feeling inside at what _could_ have happened if he hadn’t been there to call out. Richie could have easily been stabbed, maybe even killed—because of him.

“Can I help you clean it off?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” There were only a few letters left anyway.

Bill shifted awkwardly as a group of guys snickered walking by. “Was this why Richie got into a fight with him?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know, I think so. He was already beating the crap out of him when I came in.”

“He got suspended for the week, you know. I saw him leaving with his mom earlier.”

Eddie felt his jaw tense. Even having expected it, he was still bothered to hear it. He couldn’t even feel relieved about not having to avoid him. “Serves him right for being a stupid idiot,” he bit out, although it was really himself he was most angry with. 

He should have arrived earlier, should have stopped it from happening in the first place—should have done _something_. Instead, he spent the morning wrapped up in his own shit, concerned only with himself. 

He heard Bill sigh beside him. “I’m going to guess you didn’t work it out over the weekend?”

“You guess right.”

“… Can I ask what happened?”

“I screwed up,” Eddie said under his breath, disheartened over it all. Screwing up was all he seemed to do lately. “I just—I always do the wrong thing. I don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”

“Then maybe you should try something else,” Bill said after a moment, surprising Eddie enough to get him to stop scrubbing. Bill quickly lowered his eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—” He paused abruptly before bending down to pick something up. “Hey, I think you dropped something.”

Distracted by the piece of folded blue paper between his fingers, Eddie blinked at it incredulously, mouth opening slightly in recognition. “Shit, that’s…”

“Another origami,” Bill finished for him, absorbing his reaction. “A new one, I take it?”

Eddie nodded mutely. By its bent shape and the dusty print across, it looked like it had been stepped on—possibly by himself. He’d been so preoccupied with his locker door, he hadn’t even noticed it. 

“What’s it doing on the floor?”

Eddie shook his head with a shrug. “How would I know? She must have come by my locker or something.”

Bill nodded as he contemplated it for a bit. “Right… You’re right. I think that’s exactly what happened. I’m going to guess _she_ was finally ready to reveal herself to you but then—” He glanced over to the locker in consideration. “Yes, that makes sense.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie murmured as realization hit him. That did make sense. She must have seen what was written on it and took off—and who could blame her? Fuck. So much for finding out who she was. “Ugh, whatever… at least she’ll stop stalking me now.”

There was a pause. “I wouldn’t count on that.” 

Eddie made a soft snort. “You think she’ll want anything to do with me after seeing this shit?”

“What I think… is that you’re not quite looking at this the right way.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—don’t give up on anything just yet,” Bill said quickly just as the bell rang, taking his hand and placing the origami into his palm. “Just keep this, okay? I’ll see you later.”

Once he was gone, Eddie uncurled his fingers and looked at it for some time. If he were to guess, he would have said it used to be a dolphin. 

It’s not that he wanted to give up. It just seemed improbable that she might still like him after this. Who would even want to talk to him now? It was really too bad—he’d almost started warming up to the whole thing. 

If he were to be honest with himself… it was kind of, sort of endearingly sweet.

~

On Friday, Eddie was sitting with Bill and Stan at a picnic table outside, picking crumbs off his untouched sandwich and hardly paying any attention to their quiet conversation.

The week had gone by agonizingly slowly. 

Without Richie, everything felt different. Each painfully dull day that dragged by seemed longer and emptier than the last, the conversations around him lifeless, boring to the point where he couldn’t even get himself to listen to them anymore, much less respond in any kind of engaging manner. 

Somehow, it seemed even harder to get through than the previous week, as horrible as it had been, because at least Eddie still saw Richie throughout the day, however seldom, still shared a class with him, still sat beside him at lunch, even if all they did was hurl insults at each other. Richie’s mere presence had somehow been good enough.

Not seeing Richie at all day after day… was unbearable. 

The previous evening, he’d ended up taking a walk after supper, initially telling himself that it was to escape his mother’s endless nagging but then somehow finding himself standing down the street from Richie’s house, loitering behind a postal box for a couple of hours until it got dark, all the while trying to convince himself that he was only there because he felt guilty about Richie’s suspension and absolutely _not_ because he was hoping to catch a glimpse of him, no matter how small.

He didn’t end up seeing Richie anyway as his bedroom window curtains remained drawn the entire time, but he did see someone else walk out of the front door just before the green tinge of the evening sky gave way to falling darkness; someone surprising but not completely unexpected. Someone that kicked his doubts back up a notch from where they lurked deep in the shadows, unwilling to be put to rest.

Flicking another crumb off his sandwich, Eddie watched it fly across the table and into the grass beyond absently, his mood as grey as the overcast sky. 

What the hell was she doing there again?

Startled at hearing his own name, he glanced over at Bill, whose expectant look matched that of Stan beside him. Realizing he had no idea what they had been talking about for the past little while, he asked “What?” without any real interest.

Bill didn’t look surprised. “I said—you’re pretty well prepared for the mid-terms by now, right?”

Eddie made an unconcerned grunt in the back of his throat, the mid-terms the last thing on his mind. He tore a small piece of bread off of his sandwich and popped it into his mouth. “I guess so.”

Stan waved his fork between him and Bill. “So it’s been working out—studying together?”

When Eddie didn’t answer, Bill spoke up. “Well, he’s been putting a lot of hours into it and his homework has been improving lots. He did pretty well on the practice exam, too. Right, Eddie?”

Eddie made another non-committal noise. He couldn’t get himself to think about his grades or mid-terms—or whatever else, for that matter. Despite his firm resolve to find himself a distraction, he missed Richie more now than he ever did before.

If Richie had been on his mind for most of the time before the Barrens, now he was all Eddie could think about anymore. Like a water current that couldn’t help flowing downstream, every thought that drifted into his head inevitably started or ended with Richie, suffused by that same deep-seated feeling that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. A feeling he still couldn’t get himself to name.

“Hard work does usually pay off,” Stan commented agreeably. “It would really suck to fail a class so close to graduation.” He poked his fork through a few pieces of stewed carrots in his container, sweeping his curly bang out of his eyes. “I was a little worried when I heard Richie got suspended, since mid-terms start next week and all… Even with his grades, missing the exams would really drag him down. He said he’ll come back on Monday, though.”

“So you ended up going to see him after school yesterday?” Bill asked.

Stan nodded, swallowing his carrots before responding. “He won’t come to the phone anymore… I don’t know what’s going on with him these days.”

“Yeah, something’s definitely up,” Bill agreed and his gaze flickered to Eddie momentarily, which made Eddie drop his eyes back to his sandwich. “I’ve been trying to call him too, but his mom keeps telling me he’s not feeling well. How was he doing?”

“Well… he wasn’t in the mood for company, that’s for sure. I was only there—hmm, maybe fifteen minutes? He didn’t feel like talking, which shocked the crap out of me, so I didn’t stay long.”

Eddie almost snorted to himself. Beverly was there far longer than that, so his mood couldn’t have been all that bad. Maybe he was too busy to get to the phone.

Bill nodded pensively. “What else did he say to you?”

“He asked about Eddie. That’s about it,” Stan said with a shrug before addressing Eddie. “Haven’t you been to see him?”

“No,” was all Eddie said, shoving his sandwich back into its paper bag and scrunching it up because he’d heard enough. Bill had been trying to get him to visit Richie all week and he didn’t really care to have the same discussion with Stan. 

“Where are you going?” Bill asked, watching him pack up his stuff. “It’s only half past.”

“I’m gonna bail,” Eddie mumbled, avoiding his searching gaze. “I still have the paint thinner in my locker, I should return it.” 

“Are you coming to the library today?”

“… I’m kind of tired today, I think I’ll just go home,” Eddie said, which wasn’t an outright lie. Sleep was becoming somewhat of an elusive commodity for him. 

Exchanging brief farewells with them before they could ask anything else, he made his way into the building.

He’d dodged Bill’s attempts to talk about Richie all week, telling him that he didn’t want to see him, but that was a lie—of course it was. He wanted to see Richie so much it was making him physically sick. And he’d played it out in his head about a hundred times while he stared up at his bedroom window from behind his hiding place the previous day, hoping he could get up the nerve to just walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell; but he never did, he couldn’t. Once he saw Beverly leaving, he was glad he didn’t. 

Despite what Richie had told him in the Barrens, there was definitely something going on between them; he’d never known Beverly to visit him so much. And Eddie still couldn’t trust himself not to react to it, not to become furiously angry—and risk making things even worse. 

Grabbing the paint thinner from his locker and slamming the door shut unnecessarily, he headed over to the Art classroom, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed. To his disappointment, the room wasn’t entirely empty; a couple of girls were huddled together over a teen magazine, chatting idly in their shrill little voices. 

Upon spotting him, they whispered something to each other with a quiet giggle, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Fuck, did they have to laugh right to his face? Weren’t girls supposed to be sensitive or some shit? It was no wonder he’d never wanted anything to do with them before. Most of them reminded him of his mother. 

He rushed to place the tin box on the teacher’s desk, pointedly ignoring their presence. He was about to make his way out when something within the large glass display along the exit wall caught his eye, giving him pause. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Oh, shit. How did he not see it there before?

He glanced at the two girls sitting at the far side, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. He really didn’t want to talk to them, but… it couldn’t hurt to ask about it, could it?

He cleared his throat, managing to get their attention. “Hey, I was just wondering about this stuff here,” he started tentatively, pointing to the colourful row of origami in the middle. “How would… I mean—do you have to be in this class to make these?”

“Um, no,” one of them answered, not altogether pleasantly. “Anyone with a brain can make those. It’s just folded paper.”

“So… how would you know how to fold it, if you’re not from this class?”

“There’s a book in the library,” the girl replied pointedly, seemingly unimpressed, while the other went back to leafing through the magazine with a bored look. “I think it’s out right now, though.”

Eddie perked up slightly as he processed the information. Shit, why hadn’t he thought of that before? Of course there would be a book—someone would probably need some visual instructions to make such a thing. It seemed so obvious now. “Do you know who has it out?”

In lieu of an answer, the girl nodded towards the doorway. “Why don’t you ask her? You know her, right?”

Eddie followed her gaze. Beverly was standing in the doorway with a slightly alarmed look on her face, a textbook clutched tightly to her chest.

“Eddie,” she said, lowering her eyes as soon as he spotted her. “What are you doing here?”

“Um… I was just returning something,” he said, somewhat taken aback. He didn’t even know she was taking Art. “You’re in this class?”

“Just this term,” she answered quickly. “I’ve been thinking about going into design or something, so… Ben suggested it.” Tucking a stray curl behind her ear self-consciously, she added, “What did you want to ask?”

“Oh… nothing,” Eddie said, his gaze instinctively finding its way to the black band around her neck that was half-way tucked into her light peach sweater. He pressed his lips into what he hoped resembled a smile. “I’m good. See ya.”

Pushing past her, he flew down the stairs and took the main corridor towards his next class at a quickened pace, the image of her leaving Richie’s house still burning in his mind.

In his absentminded state, he didn’t notice someone exiting the office just as he was passing the double doors, causing him to collide into them full-force. Mortified, he mumbled a brief apology as the taller person helped steady him before dropping their arms away.

Recognition clicked into place one moment too late. 

His eyes met Richie’s for the first time since the moment _they nearly kissed_ , triggering an instant dizzying swirl of emotions to diffuse throughout his system.

Embarrassment. Fear. Guilt. It was all there. 

Something else too… a longing. A want.

Flushing with heat to the tips of his ears, he dropped his head quickly, flooded with an overpowering urge to break into a run. Murmuring another apology, he took a step back, fully intending on doing just that.

“Eddie, isn’t it?” a soft feminine voice from nearby halted his movement, which he vaguely recognized as belonging to Richie’s mother. “I remember you. You’re one of Richie’s friends.”

Eddie bit on the inside of his lip, painfully aware of Richie’s eyes on him. God. He hadn’t even looked at himself in the mirror that day. What if his hair was sticking out all over the place? He was sure he was red as a beet, too. He probably looked like a complete idiot. 

“Is everything okay with you?” she spoke again as she approached, placing a light hand on his shoulder. “You look a little shaken up.”

Common courtesy screamed at him to look up and say something—anything, but he just… he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself look up. He couldn’t look at Richie. He could only nod, his throat painfully frozen.

“You haven’t been over in a while,” she continued after a pause, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Richie could really use some company these days… why don’t you come by for supper sometime?”

Eddie could only nod again, arms taut and awkward at his sides. Richie seemed to have plenty of company these days, as far as Eddie could see. He wondered what Richie was thinking. He was being so quiet, Eddie couldn’t tell his mood. From the quick glimpse he got of his face, he didn’t look very happy. Was Richie upset with him? His hands were fisted inside his jean pockets. 

“You used to come by all the time,” his mother added pensively as though she was remembering something. “I hope my son didn’t scare you off with his antics. He can be a real handful sometimes, but he’s a good boy.” She waited the few requisite beats for a response, making Eddie feel stupidly shitty. She let go of him when she got none. “Alright, well… you look like you’re in a rush to get somewhere, so I won’t hold you up. I do hope to see you again, Eddie.”

Eddie took off as soon as they moved away, the throbbing in his chest struggling between relief and deep anguish at the increasing distance between them. God, he missed Richie so fucking much. Rounding a corner, he fell back against the wall and released a long, shaky breath, eyes nearly stinging. 

He was such a goddamn coward.

~

“I’ve got a favour to ask.”

Bill looked up from his work in surprise. “I thought you weren’t coming today.”

“Something came up. I need your help.”

Bill leaned back in his chair, eyeing him. “Alright, what is it?”

“You know how I went to return the paint thinner today?” At Bill’s confirming nod, Eddie continued eagerly, “Well, guess what… I saw a bunch of those paper thingies in the display in the classroom. I don’t know why I didn’t think of asking around there before, but anyway… apparently there’s a library book on how to make them that’s signed out right now. So I was thinking…”

“—you want to find out who has it,” Bill picked up his thought, not looking nearly as excited as Eddie thought he would be. 

Eddie didn’t really feel all that excited himself—mostly, he just desperately needed to get his mind off of Richie. After bumping into him, the ache in his chest grew so horrifically intense he could barely stand it anymore. He felt like he was losing his fucking mind. 

“It’s an idea, right?” he asked, slipping into the seat next to him in one smooth motion and staring at him intently. “I mean—she’s either in the Art class or she has the book. Or both. Am I right?”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re probably right,” Bill said, albeit reluctantly. “So what do you need my help with?”

Eddie stuck his thumb in the direction of the front desk. “The librarian hates my guts, and she’s the only one that can check who has it signed out. I can’t be the one to ask her, there’s no way she’s going to tell me anything. Pretty sure she thinks I come here to sleep every day—like some bum.”

“So you want me to ask her.”

“You’re the Golden Boy around here. She would tell you if you asked, I’m sure of it.”

Bill hesitated, rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t know about this, Eddie. I don’t want to… mess anything up.”

“Mess what up?” Eddie asked a little too abruptly. “You’re the one who told me not to give up, didn’t you?”

Bill studied him for a moment. “What’s wrong with you? You seem so edgy.”

“Nothing,” Eddie snapped despite himself. Bill didn’t need to know. “I thought you wanted to help me with this.”

“I do, I really do. It’s just…” Bill trailed off, shaking his head. The painfully conflicted look on his face prompted Eddie to frown in confusion. 

“Just what? The locker thing? I was thinking I could just explain it to her—I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“No, that’s not it…”

“Then what the hell’s bothering you?”

Bill sighed softly as he took a few moments to respond, eyes fixed on the pencil he was rolling rapidly between his fingers. “Just—promise me you won’t overreact if it turns out to be… well, someone unexpected. That you won’t, you know, jump to conclusions like you do. If you promise me that, I’ll get the name for you.”

“Someone unexpected?” Eddie asked, huffing in near amusement. “You mean like some weirdo or something?” That was still a distinct possibility, after all. 

“Just promise me.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Eddie rushed to agree. For the time being, he just wanted to know who it was. Bill always worried unnecessarily. “Can you just go ask her?”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Eddie could barely keep himself on the edge of his seat as he awaited his return, all hyped up on nerves. Now that he was so close to knowing, he felt terribly nervous about it. What if she turned out to be someone from his classes—or someone he wasn’t interested in? Or, on the off chance that he was interested, what if he couldn’t get himself to approach her? He wasn’t all that forward, either. But he had to try, he had to. Things couldn’t go on the way they were going. They just couldn’t.

When Bill finally came back, the perplexed look on his face was more than a little concerning. He slowed down as he approached their table, peering at Eddie worriedly.

“What happened?” Eddie asked right away, spreading out his hands. “She wouldn’t tell you?”

“No… she did.” Bill paused, looking nearly as nervous as Eddie. 

“What’s wrong then?”

“It’s just—it’s not who I thought it would be.”

Eddie searched his face in confusion, because Bill had never even told him he had a guess. “So who is it? Do I know her?”

“… Yeah. You know her.”

“Bill, just tell me.”

Bill faltered for a moment longer. “Eddie, it’s B-Bev. She has the book.”


	9. Chapter 9

Late on Saturday afternoon, the mall was packed.

Why did they even have to put movie theaters inside malls? He’d hoped to avoid the mall altogether since the theater was right at the exit, but no such luck. His mother dropped them off a good hour before the movie started so they had a chance to ‘talk’ and of course Allison had to insist that they walk around the grungy place (that looked no cleaner than it had the last time he was there) so she could check out some boring-ass designer stores that Eddie wouldn’t have stepped foot into otherwise. 

For the most part, she did all the talking. 

On and on she went about the friends she had at her school, the places she’d visited last summer, the movies she’d seen and the actors she liked the most in the sort of rambling monologue that never seemed to require any type of input on Eddie’s part—which he was perfectly fine with. After staying up for most of the night thinking about things, he wasn’t in a friendly mood at all. And that was an understatement.

Finding out Beverly had the book had been a shock, to say the least. Even after Bill tried to rationalize it, pleading with him to keep his promise and not jump to any conclusions until they had a chance to talk to her, Eddie couldn’t help feeling… deceived. 

After thinking it through, he had no doubts it was her; the fact that she had the book was no mere coincidence. Aside from taking Art, she was there the first and second time that the origami was ‘delivered’ to him, and she could have easily passed by his locker on Monday morning. 

The question he couldn’t get past was why—why would she do such a thing? Why had she been acting like she knew nothing about it? What was her intention? 

He couldn’t understand it.

Eddie wanted to say he knew her pretty well. Not as well as he knew Bill and Richie, of course, but still—she had been part of their circle for many years and he’d spent a good deal of time with her over those years. He’d never known her to be mean or cruel. He didn’t always connect with the things she did at times, not the way Richie did, but he was always able to see past their differences, which didn’t make them the best of friends but good friends nonetheless. 

Despite her situation at home, it was in her nature to be thoughtful and sweet, which he appreciated in any human being. And if she were to give those things to him openly—as a friendly gesture type of thing, he would think nothing else of it. 

What bothered him was the way she’d slipped them to him… the way she’d kept it a secret. Made it look like something it was not. Got him to—hope for something.

He didn’t know exactly what he’d been hoping for, but… it certainly wasn’t this. It disappointed him more than he wanted to admit to himself.

Once Allison alerted him that it was getting close to the time the movie started, they finally made their way to the theatre, where they stood in a long line at the box office to get their tickets and an even longer one at the concession stand, where she took a good few minutes to decide which candy she wanted to go along with her popcorn and drink while Eddie waited impatiently, eager to get inside, into the dark—where he wouldn’t have to listen to her nonsense or see her face for a little while. 

It wasn’t that she was particularly ugly; he’d decided that it was the pinched expression on her face that had made her seem that way, which—okay, had somewhat improved this time around, but still added something unpleasant to her overall demeanor. 

Plus she just wasn’t his type of girl. Not that he had a type, but… with her straight blonde hair, puffy cheeks, and dull eyes, she was nothing like—

—well, like his type.

Still, despite all that, despite her obvious disinterest in him, he wanted to give it a working chance, he really did. He just couldn’t get himself to try hard enough. In part due to his bad mood, yes, but also because he just… couldn’t get into her.

When they finally made it into the auditorium, the movie had already started playing and they had to stumble around in the dark for a bit before they were able to get into a couple of empty seats. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he dropped into his chair despite knowing what he was going to have to sit through for the following hour and a half. The movie had been picked by Allison (of course), and just had to be in the stupidest genre to have ever been invented, a romantic comedy. At least the theatre bathrooms were usable—in case he felt like he needed to throw up.

The munching noises from beside him combined with the nauseating smell of food that permeated the cramped room didn’t help things. He hadn’t eaten for most of the day and his stomach was still churning. 

To make things even better, about half-way through the movie the couple a few rows ahead of them decided they were done watching and started making out instead, the dark outline of their curly hair irritating him to no end. Why did people even go to the movies if that’s all they wanted to do? He couldn’t even ignore them properly. Despite the fact that they were sunk low in their seats, the top of their heads were still clearly visible. They were sitting in his direct line of view, completely engrossed in their new-found activity. 

Eddie couldn’t stand the sight of them. In part because he’d never approved of such bullshit behaviour, but there was something else, too – something about them bothered him immensely. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was there.

He bounced his knee rapidly for the rest of the movie, trying his best to shut out pretty much everything that was going on around him. The movie, the couple, Allison. He couldn’t stand any of it. He was so done with it, all he wanted was to go home.

When at long last the credits rolled, Eddie was the first to hop out of his chair and pull Allison along with him towards the exit before the lights even had a chance to come on, thankful as he was that his torture was nearly over. All that was left to do was wait to get picked up by Mrs. Spencer, and he could finally go back to cocooning himself into his lavender-scented covers while trying not to think of anything at all, as he’d done for most of that day.

Forced into listening to Allison’s annoying little commentary about the movie while they waited for their ride by the mall doors, Eddie’s eyes strayed back to the theatre, idly scanning the mob of people spilling out of it against the inflow. 

As he spotted a flash of curly hair, his body froze solid, hands growing rigid and cold in his pockets.

Dark hoodie, ripped jeans. A flowery dress beside him. They had stopped by the box office amidst the exiting crowd. 

… The couple in the auditorium. 

When soft, brown eyes met his, Eddie didn’t look away. His face didn’t flush with heat. There was no funny flutter inside his stomach. 

All he felt was hurt—and anger. Blind, cold fucking anger. His heart seized with it like something had sunk its fangs into it and filled it with venom.

Snatching his arm out of Allison’s grasp, who was trying to get his attention by calling out his name in her insistent, bossy little tone, Eddie muttered a quick “I’m walking home” before charging out of the front doors. 

He didn’t get far along the side of the building before he heard rushed steps behind him, Richie’s voice steady but hard.

“You’re going to talk to me—whether you want to or not.”

Eddie sped up his pace, turning the corner into the back alley he needed to take. “The hell I am. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Before he knew it, Richie grabbed his arm and shoved him back against the concrete wall forcefully, digging his hand into his shoulder to pin him down in place. They exchanged a hard look before Eddie turned his face away, setting his jaw.

“Who was that, huh?” Richie asked. “Were you on a fucking date?”

“Take your hands off me,” Eddie said, having no intention on discussing his ‘date’ after what he had just seen.

Richie’s voice only seemed to harden. “So you’re going to date girls now? Just to cover up the truth?” 

Eddie gave an indignant huff. Like Richie could talk. “The truth? The truth is that you lied to me.”

“No, I didn’t. I have _never_ lied to you,” Richie hissed at him. At Eddie’s disbelieving silence, he dug harder into his shoulder. “Look at me, goddamn it.” 

Eddie turned a cold stare on him. “Then what were you doing in there? You told me you weren’t with her and now you’re kissing her?”

Richie eyebrows drew; he almost looked angry. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never kissed her and I wasn’t going to.”

“Quit denying it! I saw you two in there.”

“So what? That doesn’t mean anything. You’re the one who’s on a date with some girl. Or should I say a miniature version of your mother.”

Eddie scowled, curling his fists. “Move the fuck away from me. I’m going home.”

Richie didn’t budge. “I’m not letting you do this again.”

“Do what? You’re the one who’s doing shit—consistently. And guess what, I’m done playing games. Just because I’ve never had a girlfriend doesn’t mean you get to screw around with me. You’re clearly into Beverly so why can’t you leave me the fuck alone?”

“Jesus, I can’t believe you sometimes!” Richie said, voice rising. “I already told you I’m not with Beverly.” 

“I saw you kissing her!”

“Oh, what a fucking surprise! First you see us kissing in the lab, then you think we’re screwing just cause she’s got my shirt on, and now this. Where does this little fantasy of yours end?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie said bitingly, pushing back against him. “Move away.”

Richie’s grip on him was almost bruising in its force. “Stop it. You think you’ve got it all figured out but you don’t—you can’t even figure yourself out. I’m not into her, okay? I’ve never kissed her.”

“Whatever! You can kiss whoever you damn like, I don’t care. Go have your fucking orgies—just leave me out of it because I’m done with this shit.”

“Stop saying you don’t care when it’s obvious you do,” Richie snarled, his entire body strained with tension. “God… you just don’t get it, do you? There’s only—” he faltered momentarily, “—I’ve only ever kissed one person in my life.”

The brief flicker of his eyes to Eddie’s temple was unmistakable.

As the words sunk in, Eddie’s throat constricted painfully, something cold and bitter rising up inside of it. “You… you remember?”

“You really thought I could forget that?”

Eddie stared at him aghast, a deep sense of shame mixing in with the anger. 

He could still remember their somewhat awkward conversation on the ride to school the morning after it happened. He’d accepted Richie’s story easily at the time, felt relieved by it even, but he’d known all along there was something off about the way Richie couldn’t quite meet his eye when he’d told him he couldn’t remember what happened, the way he’d quietly apologized for getting drunk like he was really apologizing for something else, the way he’d skimmed over the bandage on his temple and then never looked at it again. Until just now. 

“And you say you’ve never lied to me?” Eddie threw at him, spurred on by how much the knowledge of it stung. “You’re so full of shit! I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me this whole time! You fucking lied to me, you—” His voice broke off, words crushed under the weight of the implications. So it was all a bad joke, after all. 

He wanted to yell at him, curse at him. Slap him. Punch him. _Something_.

A new emotion rose in Richie’s face, one Eddie couldn’t quite read. Fear… or regret, maybe. It only served to incense him more. “That was just—”

“Just what? Convenient for you?” Eddie interjected acidly. “You got drunk, had your fun with it, and then just brushed it off—like I’m some plaything?”

“Eddie, no… that’s not—”

“Shut up! You and her are just the same—you’re perfect for each other! I’m just a fucking joke to the two of you, aren’t I?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Eddie felt himself being shoved harder into the wall, the solid weight of Richie’s hands trapping him in. The look in his eyes was blistering, intense. Angry. “Stop it already! You know that’s not how I feel. You know it.”

Eddie did know it but the hurt in his chest ran so deep it was skewing everything in his mind. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. He felt so betrayed—by both of them. 

They glared at each other for what seemed like a short eternity saturated by the palpable tension that had built up around them, their chests rising and falling together rapidly. 

By the time Eddie became aware of just how intimately Richie had leaned into his space, it was all too late—his body was responding to it faster than he could register it. Once his mind caught up to it, it could only follow in the same direction. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help it. God, he couldn’t help it.

Richie’s hot breath on him was so fucking enticing. Tempting beyond belief. 

Despite the hurt clouding his mind, despite the shame, the anger, the bitterness—all he wanted was to close the distance between them, give in to it, bring their lips together again. He was burning up inside with it. 

Before he knew it, his treacherous gaze dropped down to Richie’s parted mouth, driving the rising need in him even higher. He remembered their kiss so well he could almost taste it… his lips tingled with it. The searing memory shot a spark of fire into his veins, and he tried to steel himself against it, but it was no good. The heat spread through him like wildfire.

He turned his face to the side sharply, breath quivering. 

Richie didn’t back off, didn’t move away; didn’t make it any easier on him. He leaned in closer instead, chipping another piece off his rigidly-kept control. His hand slid up to Eddie’s neck, its pressure warm and firm against his frantic pulse.

“Eddie…” he breathed, voice dropping to an urgent whisper against his cheek, “Please don’t do this… I know what you want, I—”

“I said take your hands off me,” Eddie cut him off with an edge of desperation to his voice, his anger not nearly strong enough to cover up for the sick panic that was welling up inside of him. He was sure Richie was about to say he was okay with it, and he didn’t want to hear that. He couldn’t hear that. He inhaled shakily against the pang in his heart. “We can’t be friends anymore.”

It tore him apart to say it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t want Richie to know, yet couldn’t stop himself from being so painfully obvious it was fucking embarrassing. He had to put an end to it somehow. And this was the only way he could think of.

At his words, Richie stilled against him for a moment before the tension in his body seemed to spike, and then his hands were on Eddie’s face and they were forcing it to turn with unclear intent, unrelenting against his wavering resistance.

Just as Eddie was about to buckle under their insistent pressure, a dark blue car rounded the bend, prompting him to shove back so abruptly that Richie lost his hold on him and stumbled back a step. 

“Eddie?” a worried voice called out as it pulled up beside them. Mrs. Spencer stuck her permed head out the window, peering between them with obvious concern. “Is everything okay? Can I drive you home?”

Eddie had never been more glad to see her. Rushing past Richie, he hopped into the back seat and sunk low into it, keeping his eyes fully averted from the window. At his side, Allison leafed through a magazine disinterestedly, not even bothering to acknowledge his reappearance as they drove away.

By the time the car pulled into his driveway, all of the anger had bled out of him, leaving behind only heartache and devastation. He was so exhausted from the outpour of emotion inside of him, he just wanted to sleep. Not think of anything for a while. 

Finding the house empty, he turned to his mother’s medicine cabinet.

~

There were voices. Strange voices. Indistinct and distorted. 

He… didn’t recognize them.

He tried opening his eyes, but they were too heavy… they fluttered in place instead, like a moth trapped inside a lamp.

The voices grew louder. His eyelid was forced open and something agonizingly bright struck his retina. He tried to turn away from it. His head didn’t listen. It felt light as a feather one moment and heavy as lead the next. 

They were calling out to him. Slapping him. He didn’t know how to tell them to stop.

Someone was crying. His mother. It grated on his ears. 

He felt hands on his body. He was being lifted up, carried away. His limbs felt light as air; he couldn’t get them to move.

He didn’t want to go anywhere. He tried saying so, but his mouth was numb and his lips were dry and coarse.

Visions floated behind his eyelids. Lights. He floated amongst them, feeling paper thin and fragile. Slowly, they seeped into his brain and shut everything else out, both piercing and somber. Dead lights.

In the deafening silence, a word ghosted over him again and again.

_Honey. Honey…_

The lights swallowed him up.

~

He came back to the sound of his mother’s voice. And… someone else.

It took too much effort to open his eyes. He felt weak… wrung out. Exhausted. The familiar pungent smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils, a mechanical beep accompanying the steady thudding in his chest. His hands felt so cold.

Broken sentences drifted over to him in fragments, making little sense to him. He didn’t want to hear them anymore. He wanted the voices to go away. He tried to speak but his mouth wasn’t working. He couldn’t even swallow.

“… please help him—please… my baby…”

Nobody could help him. Not when he lost the only person he’d ever—

No. Shut it out. Don’t think. Don’t… think about him.

_Honey…_

The darkness swallowed him up again.

~

When Eddie opened his eyes, the room was immersed in semi-darkness and something to his right was buzzing insistently. After a moment, he realized it was a phone.

Letting it ring, he surveyed the room he was in. Plain white walls, a plaid curtain half-drawn on a track around his bed, a single ceiling lamp lit in the far corner over a rolling cart of medical supplies. The faded blue gown, the bleached bedspread. He knew this place well enough. 

He tried to recall how he’d gotten there, but his brain felt foggy and slow, like it needed to be pushed to think. 

He remembered arguing with Richie at the theatre… and driving away. He remembered getting home and taking some pills. He remembered falling into his bed and drifting off. What happened to him after that? How did he get to the hospital? That part of the memory was slippery, unclear. There was a shadow of it floating around in the back of his mind, he just couldn’t get a grasp on it.

He glanced over the pole attached to the bed. A clear saline bag hung there, half-empty. Eddie followed the line to where it disappeared under a bandage on the back of his left hand. It felt cold. He brought it up for inspection, blinking at it slowly as it took his brain a moment to process the information. An IV. What the hell…?

When the phone started ringing again, he picked up.

“Eddie, thank God. It’s me.”

It took Eddie a moment to recognize the voice and yet another moment to get his throat to work. “Bill?” he croaked hoarsely before clearing out his throat.

“Is your mom gone?”

Eddie checked the room again, as though he might have missed her on the first look around. “I think so.”

“Good, we can talk then. Are you… okay?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said after a moment. It didn’t feel like he was okay. It didn’t feel that way at all. Upon realizing something, he added, “How did you know I was here?”

There was a sigh. “You might not like this. Your mom, she—well, she sort of spoke to Richie. On the phone.”

Eddie’s heart staggered, blood running colder than ice. “… What??”

“I’m sorry. She must have kept his number from before. Or maybe she found it in the phone book, I don’t know.”

“But how did she know—” When it hit him, he groaned in near despair. Fuck. Mrs. Spencer. Of course. “… Please tell me he hung up on her.”

“No… no, he didn’t. From what I understood, she was pretty angry. She wanted to know if he had anything to do with… what’s been going on.”

Something about Bill’s tone felt awfully wrong. Overcome with an unexplained sense of dread, Eddie was almost afraid to ask. “What did she say to him?”

“That you haven’t been eating or sleeping… that she’s been really worried about you. Can’t say I disagree. Also…” There was a strange pause. “She said you took some pills or something.”

Eddie’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. The way Bill said it, it almost sounded like—like he’d tried to… Jesus. This wasn’t happening. She had no fucking right. He could only imagine what Richie was thinking right now. 

At his silence, Bill spoke again. Quietly, cautiously. “You weren’t trying to—”

“No!” Eddie said before he could even finish the question, perhaps a bit more sharply than he’d intended. “Really, Bill? Do you even have to ask? You know me better than that.” 

“Sorry. Just making sure.” He paused. “Richie told me… what happened at the mall. Some of it, at least. He was really beyond himself when he called, he kind of thought that maybe you—you know… felt really upset about things. He said… it was all his fault.”

Feeling utterly dismayed, Eddie brought his hand up to knead at the ache burgeoning in his chest. His drug-induced numbness was starting to wear off and the pain was rapidly returning with renewed punch. Why did he have to take those goddamn pills again? He regretted it so much now. He’d only made everything worse. 

Why the hell did his mother have to go and tell Richie?

He strained his memory, hoping it would somehow stimulate his brain into remembering what happened after he’d drifted off to sleep. To his surprise, something did slip past the fog—a vague recollection, a trickle of consciousness barely registered at the edge of his awareness. Strange voices trying to wake him; being lifted, taken away. Being swallowed up by darkness. 

Oh, God…

He must have been really out of it for her to call 911. But why? He’d only taken the same handful of pills she had given to him weeks ago—he was sure of it. 

_Fuck_. This was a monstrous disaster. 

“Bill—please, you have to tell him that’s not what happened, that I wasn’t trying to… do anything. I can’t talk to him. You have to call him and tell him. Please.”

Bill didn’t respond right away. “I would but I’m quite sure he won’t be home.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie glanced at the electronic clock on the bed stand, realizing he didn’t even know what time it was. It read 10:15 PM. “Where else would he be at this hour?”

“… There.”

“Where there?” Eddie asked on impulse before realization hit. “Oh… shit.”

“Yeah,” Bill confirmed. “I tried to convince him not to rush over there as soon as he got off the phone with me, which was a few hours ago. I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to annoy your mom any more, you know? I told him to wait till you returned home, but… I have a feeling he went there anyway. I’m going to guess you haven’t seen him yet.”

“No,” Eddie replied quietly. “And I hope you’re wrong.” Because he didn’t want to, either.

“Eddie…”

“What else did she say to him?” Eddie asked, ignoring Bill’s mournful tone. He didn’t know what all he knew, but he couldn’t argue with him about it right now. The hurt was still too raw, too fresh. There was nothing he could do about it, anyway. Not this time. 

“Well—she did tell him to stay away from you. Apparently, so did you.”

Eddie sighed heavily. “Listen, I’m still tired, I—”

“Okay, I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. Can I just say one thing, though?” There was an audibly shaky breath. “I don’t talk much about my little b-brother, you know that. I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. Georgie, he really cared about m-me, and I… I took it for granted, I—never got to tell him how much he meant to me.”

“Bill, please…”

“He does care about you, Eddie. More than you realize.”

Eddie shut his eyes, swiping his fingers across them quickly. They stung. “I’m sorry, I really can’t do this right now. I’m going to go.”

“Eddie, wait—just wait a moment. Before you go, there’s something I need to ask. You don’t have to answer… but I’m going to ask anyway. Okay?”

Eddie kept his eyes closed, something painful lodged in his throat. He waited for it to come, barely aware that he was holding his breath.

“Are you in love with him?”

Somehow, Eddie had almost expected the words. Even so, spoken out loud they drenched him like a bucket of freezing water, shaking him down to his core.

“… I have to go.”

“Eddie—”

Dropping the receiver onto the hook, Eddie turned away from it and bundled up tighter within his covers, shivering all over. He knew it wasn’t from the cold, but the encasing weight of the blankets around him was comforting. His chest felt so tight, he could barely draw a breath. If only he had his aspirator…

_Deep breaths, Eddie. Deep breaths._

He could get through this. He could. 

“Edward? Are you awake?”

Startled, Eddie looked to the doorway that had opened to reveal a petite woman mid-forties in a clean white dress with blonde hair gathered up into a neat bun underneath a nurse’s cap. He didn’t recognize her.

Upon seeing him, she approached to pull at the light switch at the head of the bed before giving him a smile. “Hey, good to see you’re up. I’m Cathy, your nurse for tonight. How are you feeling?”

Sick. Hurt. Desperately lost.

“I’ve been better.”

“Is it your head? Bit fuzzy still?”

“A bit.”

“It will pass. Bet you need to use the bathroom, huh?”

Realizing she was right, Eddie grunted in acknowledgment before propping himself up on his elbows. His legs felt heavy and weak under the covers. “I don’t know… if I can get there.”

“Let’s try,” she said, offering her arm in encouragement.

Holding on to her, he brought himself up to the edge. Sliding his legs off one by one, he dangled them down for a few moments. Once he’d pressed them flat against the floor and bore down onto them, they felt steadier, stronger—as though the cool tiles shot a jolt of life back into them, boosting his confidence. 

He heaved himself up with some difficulty but sat back down almost immediately when his stomach rolled in a wave. 

“Nauseous?” Cathy asked, rubbing his back gently. “I can’t give you anything for it, I’m afraid. Let’s try again.”

Things went better on the second attempt. The queasiness persisted but he braced himself against it because he had nothing to throw up anyway. He hadn’t eaten since… when? He couldn’t even remember.

Cathy pulled the IV pole along with them, rolling it into the bathroom and closing the door behind her for privacy. It took a little bit of effort to get it all done, but Eddie managed. As he washed his hands, he glanced at himself in the mirror—only for a brief moment. He wished he hadn’t anyway. 

The thin, pale face. The hollow eyes. All it triggered was resentment. 

When he returned to bed, Cathy checked the bandage on the back of his hand. He cringed a little at the knowledge that there was a foreign object embedded in his vein. He’d never liked the idea of it.

“Do I really need that?”

“Now that you’re awake, maybe not. The doctor said if you’re able to keep something down, I can remove it. Want to try some ice chips first?”

At Eddie’s accepting nod, she gave him another warm smile and went out. A few minutes later, she returned holding a foam cup. “Slowly, okay?”

Slipping some smaller chips into his mouth, Eddie swished them around for a bit before swallowing them down. He took more, encouraged that his stomach didn’t immediately revolt. They felt really good against the sides of his mouth. Refreshing.

“Great,” Cathy said, looking pleased. “I’ll remove it then and you keep on eating those. I’ll bring some apple sauce, too.”

Eddie dumped more into his mouth, wincing slightly as the needle was pulled out of his hand. “I’m not really hungry. When can I go home?”

“Not for another day at least,” Cathy said, taping a piece of gauze to the back of his hand. “Possibly more if you’re going to be refusing to eat.”

Eddie snapped his head up to her in alarm. “Another day? I have school on Monday.” It was mid-term week, too. Damn it. His first wasn’t until Wednesday, but still. 

Cathy searched his face for a bit. “Sweetie… I think you’re a bit confused. It’s already Sunday night, you’ve been out for over twenty-four hours now. There’s no way you’ll make it to school tomorrow. Tuesday, perhaps—but like I said, you’ll have to eat something before you go. Otherwise the psychiatrist won’t release you.” 

Eddie could only gape at her, stuck on her last words. 

Psychiatrist?? No fucking way. His mother didn’t…

Sensing his distress, Cathy regarded him closely. “Edward, do you know why you’re here? Do you remember what happened?”

“It’s Eddie. And I only took those pills to sleep,” he said in a manner far too brisk for someone Cathy’s age. He forced himself to take it down a notch. “Sorry… I just—I don’t understand why I need to see a shrink. Or stay here.”

“Okay, well… try to look at it from our perspective. When they brought you in, we couldn’t rouse you and you were really dehydrated. Your mom told us you haven’t been eating much of anything over the past couple of weeks. It was a lifesaver that she keeps such immaculate records of her pills because she was able to figure out what you took—and to be honest, you shouldn’t be mixing pills like that in the first place. Especially on a very empty stomach. You were in pretty bad shape, kiddo.”

It took Eddie a minute to process the information fully. 

It certainly explained things. And he only had himself to blame for it—all of it. He should have known better. It was really stupid of him to resort to them again. What good did they do him, anyway? The pain was still there, strong as ever. He was definitely done with pills for life. He was never taking them again—none of them. Not ever.

And if it was anyone’s fault that his mother called Richie, it was his. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand why she did it, considering everything. Although it didn’t make him feel any less angry about it.

“So now I’m stuck here.”

Cathy gave him a sympathetic look. “We still have to follow the protocol. We have to keep you under observation for forty-eight hours and the psychiatrist has to clear you before you go home. He’ll discuss it more with you tomorrow.” At his troubled silence, she squeezed his arm gently. “It could have been worse, you know. Your heart had slowed down so much, it could have easily stopped.”

Eddie almost wished it had. Not because he wanted to die… far from it. He just wanted the pain to stop. His heart was strangled with it. He wanted to reach inside and tear it out of its ribcage. Stop feeling at all.

Something must have shown on his face because she sighed softly, rubbing up and down his arm soothingly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Her tone was kind, devoid of judgment, but laced with something else. Eddie had heard it before, on countless occasions—every time he returned to this damned place. It was pity.

He knew what she probably thought of him—what they all thought of him; he had a long record at the hospital. That he was pathetic and weak. That there was something wrong with him. And there was. There really was. 

Eddie shook his head as he looked away from her, eyes welling up uncomfortably. 

“Okay, I understand. Just… tell the doctor when you talk to him in the morning. I’m sure he can help you.”

Eddie very much doubted that. A prescription wasn’t going to help him. What he needed… what he desperately _wanted_ , he couldn’t have.

“You know… there was a boy here earlier,” Cathy added almost as an afterthought, at which Eddie’s heart decided to skip a beat. “He showed up after your mom left. Unfortunately, I had to tell him to come back tomorrow because visiting hours were over. Is he a friend? Tall… dark, curly hair—about shoulder-length.”

Yes. No. “I don’t know.” 

“I see. Well, I think he is for his part. He looked pretty upset when I told him you hadn’t woken up yet. I rather thought he was going to cry.”

Eddie closed his eyes. He felt so tired—deep inside. “Did he leave?”

“He didn’t want to… I had to insist he go home and get some sleep because he couldn’t see you tonight anyway. He left, hmm—just before you woke up, actually. He can come back tomorrow.”

Eddie nodded. If only it were that simple. Things hadn’t been simple between them for a very long time.

“Alright, well—” she said with a pat to his arm, “I have to start my night check, we can chat again later if you’d like. Let me know when you’re ready to eat, okay? Just push the call bell if you need anything.”

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Eddie found himself getting out of bed and padding over to the window slowly, still unsteady on his feet. He wasn’t even sure what was driving him there, except… if Richie had left not so very long ago, then maybe… maybe—

Drawing the green checkered curtain aside, he looked out into the street. The glass wasn’t the cleanest but the second floor provided a good view of the parking lot that was nearly empty at that hour of the night. Nearly.

His breath caught as he fixed his eyes on what he had been half-hoping to find. Under the light of the streetlamp, the black Chevy stood out amongst a grid of white lines, an all-too-familiar hooded figure standing beside it. But… Richie wasn’t alone.

He was with her. Again. Holding her.

Eddie felt sick.

Shutting the curtain with force and turning away from it, he hunched his shoulders and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. A few moments later, he realized they were wet.

The fog in his brain all but washed out, bringing perfect clarity. The truth ripped through him like a thousand blades.

He was jealous of her. 

He couldn’t stand the thought of her touching Richie. The mere idea of it clamped around his lungs so tightly he could barely draw a breath. That’s why he couldn’t stop getting angry whenever he saw them together, why he’d said all the hurtful things to Richie. He was so fucking jealous, it scorched his insides. It consumed him whole.

And it hurt. It hurt so damn much. 

_Are you in love with Richie?_

He knew the answer. He knew it. In his heart, he’d known it for some time. He’d been crumbling under its pressure for so long, he could no longer deny it to himself.

He’d tried to convince himself that he could be with somebody else, love somebody else, but the truth was… he didn’t want anyone else—girl or guy. He didn’t know what that made him, and in that moment, he couldn’t get himself to care. He didn’t care how wrong it was. Didn’t care what others called it or thought about it. He just wanted to be with Richie. Only Richie. 

Richie was the only one he could imagine himself ever loving. He was the breath in his lungs, the spark of life in his veins, the ray of light to his darkness. Without him, there was nothing but cold, barren desolation. They’d been a part of each other for so long, Eddie was but half a person without him. 

Yet he couldn’t stay by his side. He couldn’t stand being close to him knowing Richie was with someone else, that Richie didn’t love him back—not the way Eddie wanted him to. It was too hard, too painful. 

How was he to go on?

Making his way back to the bed, he crawled into it and pressed his face into the pillow, the intensity of his sorrow too much to bear. Within moments, he was trembling almost violently with it, hands fisted into the sheets. It was splitting his chest open. 

His heart felt wounded… broken. Torn apart. 

Was this what dying felt like?

After the first sob forced its way out of his lungs, the rest followed easily.

~

When Eddie woke up, it was pouring rain outside and his mother was sitting at his bedside.

He had fallen asleep somewhere in the early hours of the morning, curled up into a ball under the bleached covers that didn’t smell like lavender but had a similar sense of familiarity that had finally soothed him into a restless sleep. By the clock on the wall, he hadn’t slept very long at all. 

He almost wished he’d slept through the day again so he didn’t have to face this new and empty world, but he knew he couldn’t avoid reality forever. He had to face it somehow.

Just like his mother. 

He could barely get himself to look at her, overwhelmed with resentment. He would have gladly ignored her entirely if he hadn’t resolved to have a talk with her. He was still angry about what she had done; he couldn’t just let it go. He’d taken a good part of the night to think about it and he’d come to some decisions.

He let her fuss over him for a few minutes before getting straight to the point.

“I’m going to move out in the summer.”

She clearly hadn’t expected that. She went stiff before dropping back down into her chair, staring at him with a mix of alarm and incredulity. “What nonsense is this now?”

Eddie turned a firm gaze on her. “You had no right to call him.” By the look on her face, there was no need for further clarification. 

“What was I supposed to do?” she replied, voice rising in defense, although there was some guilt in there, too. At least she knew she did wrong. “I came home to find you dead-cold in your bed, I couldn’t wake you… and—” her eyes glistened despite her cross features, “—when I realized you took something, I just didn’t know what to think. You haven’t been yourself lately, you’ve been acting so strange.” 

“So why did you have to call Richie? Why do you always have to pry into my life?”

“I only wanted to know what he did to upset you so! Marge told me—”

“I don’t care what she told you,” Eddie snapped, cutting her off. “He didn’t do anything. You’re the one who’s been shoving pills down my throat my whole life—I learned it from you.”

The words were clearly an affront to her. “How can you say that? I just wanted to make sure you were well!”

“Except there was nothing wrong with me!” Not physically, anyway. “All you did was make me sick—make me feel like I needed you to take care of me.”

His mother inhaled sharply through her nose. “It’s that boy who’s making you sick. You’ve been lying to me about not seeing him anymore, haven’t you? He wouldn’t tell me anything but I know it’s true.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Eddie said without even hesitating, feeling bolder than ever. A mere month ago, he would have freaked out at the prospect of her learning the truth about Richie. Now, he couldn’t care less. “Did you really think I was going to stop being friends with him just because you didn’t like him? Just because you told me so?”

“That boy has never brought you anything but trouble!”

“His name is Richie. And he’s the best friend I ever had—since I was a stupid little kid,” Eddie shot back, feeling compelled to defend him. “He’s always been there for me.” 

“And I haven’t?” his mother asked heatedly, eyes full of reproach. “I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.”

“That’s what you keep saying, but you’re just lying to yourself. You only ever wanted what’s best for _you_. If you knew me at all, you would have never asked me to stop seeing him. I wouldn’t have survived all these years without him. He’s…” Eddie’s breath cut off for a moment and he swallowed painfully, “… he’s everything to me.” 

And he was. He really was.

“So you don’t care about me anymore? Is that it?”

Eddie forced out an exasperated breath. He did care about her; despite everything, he did. Maybe not in the same way most others loved their parents, but in some way nonetheless. “I didn’t say that, okay? But I’m done with having to hide things just to make you happy. It’s my life—I’m the one living it.”

“Why are you doing this to me? You can’t just leave me—you can’t.” Her voice broke as her tears came down. “After everything I did for you… Who’s going to take care of you?”

“Mom—I’m not leaving you, I’m only moving out. And I don’t need to be taken care of. I can take care of myself just fine.” 

“By not eating anything? By hiding away in your room for hours?”

Eddie gritted his teeth, feeling annoyed. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t doing a great job at taking care of himself but that wasn’t the point. It was his choice—his decision. He couldn’t let her dominate over him anymore. He was less than a month away from turning eighteen and she was still telling him what to wear and when to eat. “I’m not going to discuss this. I’ve already decided.”

His mother shook her head, blinking her waterlogged eyes away from him. “You’re just like your father.”

Stung by the near-accusation in her tone, Eddie turned his face to the window, watching the large drops hit the glass pane before rolling down in narrow rivulets. He’d never felt more sympathetic towards his father. He could almost understand why he’d wanted to die, cancer or not.

“I’m fine with that,” he murmured at last, more to himself than anything. 

They sat in silence for some time, disturbed only by his mother’s sniffles and the steady hum outside. Eddie had fully prepared himself for her tears; they didn’t sway him. He’d already lost the most important thing in his life—this couldn’t hurt him. Her resistance to the idea meant nothing to him; not anymore. He had been living under her influence for so long, he didn’t even know who he was without her. 

The only regret he had was that he hadn’t asserted himself to her years ago. It only made him angry to think about it now. She said she did it all out of love for him, but if that was true… it was the wrong kind of love. Her love had only ever hurt him.

And maybe… maybe that was the only way Eddie knew how to love, too. 

Bill was right, he really had taken his friendship with Richie for granted. He’d spent far too much time trying to please his mother and far too little time making sure that Richie knew how much he meant to him. How many hours, how many days with Richie had he lost because of her—trying to conform to her will? And now that he’d finally smartened up, it was all too late. The fucking irony.

Everyone was right after all—he was weak. He _was_ pitiful. 

When his mother spoke again, her tears had dried and there was a speck of resignation in her tone, if not acceptance. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“No,” Eddie said because there really wasn’t.

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Why are you so set on this?”

“… Because it’s what I want.”

~

The rain hadn’t subsided any into the evening hours. It was just as well—it was a perfect accompaniment to Eddie’s mood. 

After a gruelling hour with the shrink whose interrogation seemed as invasive as it was unnecessary, he felt mentally as well as emotionally wiped out. He spent most of the day looking out the window absently. 

When he was finally cleared to go home, it was already dark outside.

Richie didn’t end up returning to the hospital that day. His car never showed back up in the parking lot. But Eddie knew that wasn’t the end of it. Richie wasn’t going to back off easily. He never did when it came to Eddie.

That’s why he wasn’t terribly surprised when a short while after his mother had retired to her bedroom there was a tap at his window, clear and distinct amidst the beat of the water pellets; although he did feel harrowed by it.

As always—Richie had the worst of timing.


	10. Chapter 10

Eddie pushed the window open, spotting Richie below right away. He was soaking wet, his dripping curls plastered against the sides of his face, arms wrapped around himself tightly. He was shivering. The rain felt cold and harsh against Eddie’s cheek. 

Richie’s eyes met his with a quiet intensity, the unyielding determination in his features matching Eddie’s own resolve.

Eddie wasn’t ready for this. “Richie… go home.”

“I have to talk to you.”

“I can’t, okay? Not right now. Just go home.”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you.”

“Jesus, Richie!” Eddie hissed in rising anger, hands digging into the window sill. “Why can’t you do what I ask for once in your fucking life? I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Richie’s gaze on him didn’t waver. “I’ll stand here all night if I have to.”

Eddie clenched his jaw to the point of pain. It was just like Richie to do this. To show up in the midst of pouring rain (with no fucking umbrella again, no less) and stand there under his window, insisting that Eddie let him up when he hadn’t even fully recovered from their last interaction.

He battled with himself fiercely, keenly aware of how much wetter and colder Richie was getting with each passing moment. He really wasn’t feeling up to this but Richie wasn’t going to leave, that much was clear. He was going to stand there until he keeled over, and then Eddie would be the one calling 911. 

“Fine, asshole,” he finally bit out. “Just for a minute.”

Leaving the window open, he made his way into the bathroom to snatch a clean towel off the rack. This was going to prove a mistake, he just knew it. By the time he’d come out, Richie was already climbing through, his Converses hitting the floor with a wet squish. 

Avoiding eye contact, Eddie threw the towel at him and angled himself away. The few short steps between them did nothing to abate his anxiety at being this close to him again, although the distance that separated them had never felt more profound. There was a vast abyss that stretched out between them, endless and impassable. 

Eddie started before Richie had a chance to speak. “Look, Richie… regardless of what my mom said to you, I wasn’t actually trying to—”

“I know, Bill told me. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here, then?”

There was a charged pause. “… I’m sorry.”

Having expected it, Eddie was about to say that he should forget it, that it was all behind them now, but Richie’s voice rose again, loaded with that same quiet intensity.

“I’m sorry I never told you. I wanted to. God… I wanted to so much.” There was another pause, filled with uneven breathing. “I didn’t mean to lie to you about that night. I just—I got scared when you reacted the way you did. I was so scared to lose you. Then things got so bad for awhile, you were so mad at me… you wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t look at me. It hurt so much, I didn’t know what to do.”

Eddie’s heartrate picked up. Confused, he turned to face him. His breath stopped short at the unbearable _sadness_ that was drawing the lines of Richie’s face, unmistakable in its quality. His eyes were large and bright. Painfully sincere. It stunned him into silence.

“When we were at the Barrens, I wanted to kiss you so badly and I thought… you wanted it, too. But then you pulled away and I got confused, I… I thought maybe you needed more time. It was so fucking hard to stay away from you, but I did. Then I saw you with that girl, and—” his voice cracked with emotion, “I got so damn angry, I lost my mind. I pushed you and… I didn’t say what I wanted to say. It’s my fault you ended up in the hospital—my fucking fault.” He drew a shaky breath. “If anything happened to you… I couldn’t live with it.”

In the back of his mind, Eddie registered his hands were shaking. The way Richie was looking at him, the things he was saying… it was almost as though he—

He stepped back out of reflex, tensing when Richie advanced towards him. “Richie, what—”

“I’m so sorry I’ve been a coward. I should have told you. I should have told you a long time ago.”

Eddie went perfectly still, breath faltering. “… Tell me what?”

The room grew deathly quiet as they regarded each other for a long moment, chests heaving in matching irregular rhythms. Richie’s eyes shone so brightly, Eddie could only stare at them transfixed, lost in the depth of emotion they reflected.

“I love you,” Richie murmured at last, voice hoarse and weak. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I first met you.”

Eddie’s heart stopped beating. 

It must have because the whole world ground to an abrupt halt and he was suspended within that one measureless heartbeat—that moment of pure shock when the words he most longed to hear resounded through the room. 

He could only stare at him, frozen in shock. 

Why was Richie saying this now? Why? It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. Eddie had already convinced himself of that. Richie liked girls, had always shown interest in girls—ever since he was little. And even if he didn’t, why would Richie be in love with him? He was a dysfunctional mess, a poorly wired circuit. He didn’t deserve anyone’s love. 

Before he had a chance to react, Richie had bridged the gap between them.

The room sprang back into sharp focus when Richie’s arms found him and pulled him in tightly, trapping him against the firm chest, the soaking hoodie infused with the earthy scent of rain. Eddie barely had a moment to glance up to realize what was about to happen. 

A faint protest escaped his throat just before Richie leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t the first time. But it was different. Very different.

Richie’s tight embrace was cold and wet, but his lips on him were _hot_. 

So fucking hot they sent shivers through Eddie’s overwrought nerves, shivers that made his whole body tremble, sparking an electrifying heat deep down in his belly that sent his mind into a wild panic. 

He brought his hands up to Richie’s chest with the intention of pushing him away, but they refused to listen to him. They fisted into his hoodie instead, his trembling fingers sinking into the soggy fabric. He felt lightheaded… spellbound. Utterly intoxicated. He could only focus on how soft Richie’s lips felt against his own, how the taste of him silenced all of his thoughts. 

As his brain ceased to function, time seemed to stop.

His eyes closed of their own accord and he let Richie’s insistent mouth part his shaking lips, instantly addicted to the feeling of being overpowered by him. He wanted this so badly he was drowning in the outpouring of desire it awakened in him. It was taking every last bit of his will power to resist the insanely overwhelming urge to kiss back, a distant echo in his mind telling him he couldn’t… shouldn’t. 

Yet he couldn’t tear himself away from it, either. His body betrayed him, pressing up into Richie’s solid frame until they were glued to one another, their bodies fitting together like they were made for each other, and Richie responded, tightening his arms around him, his lips moving eagerly against Eddie’s like he couldn’t get enough of him. All Eddie wanted was to recklessly surrender to it.

When Richie broke away briefly and tilted his head to capture Eddie’s mouth again with a soft moan that could have come from either one of them, their hips slid together at just the right angle, and God—they were…

Eddie’s upper senses came crashing back all at once.

Richie was kissing him, _really_ kissing him… and they were both _hard_ from it.

Holy fuck.

Forcefully breaking out of Richie’s hold on him, Eddie backed up in a frenzied, breathless rush until he hit the wall. He braced himself against it as he took Richie in—the flush in his cheeks, the swollen lips, the glazed look in his eyes—and flipped his head away, mortified, a deep burn scorching his face. 

Shame and confusion tore through his chest as his brain caught up to what just happened, dousing the heat in his belly with an overflow of ice-cold reality. Richie was making out with Beverly not three days before, and now he was here, kissing him, saying he was in love with him? What the fuck?

It was all too much. He should have never come—Eddie should have never let him in. His brain couldn’t process all of this, couldn’t deal with any of it right now. It was pure overload.

“Eds—”

“Leave,” Eddie snapped with unexpected ferocity, cutting him off. His own voice sounded foreign to his ears. It was angry… cold, detached. It was not how he felt at all. “Just get out. Now.”

Moments later, he heard the soft swish of the window curtains. 

A deafening silence followed.

~

In the darkest hour of the night, Eddie still lay wide awake.

He was wrapped up in his covers, eyes fixed upon the window as though it might offer some sort of explanation for what had gone on, fingertips ghosting over his lips absently. 

His heart was restless. He felt so confused. 

Stunned out of his mind, he didn’t know what to believe. It didn’t seem possible that Richie could ever love him in that way, _had_ loved him in that way for all of these years, but for once his words had seemed so heartfelt. So genuine. So unlike the playful banter, the teasing tone that usually marked Richie’s features whenever he expressed any type of affection towards him. And the way he’d kissed him… never had Richie been so intensely passionate with him before. The mere memory of it sent a rush of heat through Eddie’s body, warming his face and re-igniting his nerve endings with a burning want, a want that Richie clearly shared. 

The torrent of hope it stirred up inside of him was scaring him. He wanted to believe it all and forget about everything else. He wanted to clear out the doubts, the lurking apprehension—simply fall into Richie’s embrace and lose himself in it completely—not think about it, not overanalyze it. But after everything that happened… it just wasn’t that simple. 

There were questions, so many questions still weighing heavily upon his mind. He couldn’t get past them. He needed to understand.

Reaching into the nightstand drawer for his aspirator, Eddie filled his lungs with the soothing aerosol until his throat stung and his head felt light, promising himself it was the very last time he was relying on it to ease his anxiety.

He had to talk to Richie again. Clarify things.

~

When he awoke to the sound of his alarm, his face felt flushed and his night clothes damp.

He took his time in the shower. 

He’d only had a couple hours of sleep, which apparently had been enough time for his brain to conjure up a dream—and not his usual dream, either. Rather, the kind of dream he remembered having many years ago, when he’d first become aware of… things. At the Quarry. He’d only had them a handful of times before they dropped off into nonexistence, but he’d never forgotten them. 

He still remembered waking up from them—feeling tense and bothered, head swimming with a tormenting mix of shame and desire. He would rush himself into the shower to wash off the evidence, scrubbing himself down harshly like it would help cleanse it all out of his head. And it did. He’d gotten very good at blocking it all out over the years, all of those inappropriate thoughts of Richie. He’d been so damn sure his feelings were wrong – that he wasn’t like that, so sure that it would wreck their friendship and that Richie couldn’t possibly ever return them.

Now… he wasn’t sure of anything at all.

Standing under the hot spray, he braced his hands against the wall and hung his head, streamlets of water running down his nose and cheeks. His mouth parted at the steamy memory washing over him, breath quickening slightly. He ran his thumb over it like he’d done for most of the night, heart filled with helpless longing. 

He wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure of Richie’s feelings for him. After years of depriving himself of his touch, Eddie ached to be back in his arms so much it burned. 

By the time he’d returned to the room, the fresh smell of pancakes was wafting in from downstairs, warm and inviting. He took a little extra care in getting ready, pulling on a pair of clean jeans and his favourite t-shirt before checking himself over in the mirror just long enough to ensure he didn’t look stupid. 

When he’d made his way down, his mother was already eating her breakfast while scanning over a newspaper in an obvious signal that she wasn’t in the mood to talk. She didn’t even look up when he came into the kitchen, his breakfast already laid out for him. 

The fact that she was still upset with him didn’t come as a huge shock. He knew it was going to take time to get her to accept reality, but he was going to chip away at it, one day at a time. She hadn’t relented much the previous day, posing more and more questions about where he was going to live and how he was going to manage on his own, which Eddie had mostly brushed off because he had no answers for most of them yet. Moving out was no easy task, he knew that, but he trusted himself to make it all work. Once he’d find himself a job, he’d figure it all out. It wouldn’t be any kind of perfect arrangement, but it would be better than what he had now. 

Murmuring a greeting, he slipped into his seat and cut up a couple of pancakes, covering them with syrup. He still didn’t feel terribly hungry but he’d told the shrink he would start eating better—promised his mother the same, too. And he wasn’t planning on breaking his word. 

If he was going to live on his own, he had to take better care of himself. He’d never had a great big appetite to begin with, but even if he didn’t feel hungry—he had to push himself to eat. Otherwise he’d just be proving his mother right. Plus he really didn’t care to create any more situations where he would have to return to the hospital, under any circumstances; he was done with that place. The mere sight of the paper doily beside his plate made his stomach turn.

Digging into his food, he cleaned out his plate as quickly as he could without choking himself on it, for once eager to get to school. If he didn’t catch Richie in the parking lot before class started, he would have to sit on pins and needles the whole time until the first break. And while it wasn’t exactly a-few-minutes kind of conversation he was looking to have, at the very least he would gauge Richie’s mood, ask to speak to him somewhere private during lunch. 

He was nervous as hell about it, but he had to do it. He was set on it.

Just before stepping out, he turned to glance at his mother, who had folded the newspaper away and was picking at her fried eggs with a glum look on her face. He did feel a little sorry for her. She might have done a lot of things he didn’t approve of, but he’d still lived under her roof for all these years—she was still his mother, the woman that had raised him from birth. He couldn’t just discount that. And he needed to maintain his relationship with her once he moved out; he couldn’t cut her out of his life entirely. That had never been his intention.

She wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but then again… neither was he, was he?

Letting out a small sigh, Eddie rounded the table and pressed a kiss to her cheek, relieved to see her features soften in response.

“Love you, Mom,” he mumbled before making his way out.

~

To his great dismay, Richie’s car was missing from the parking lot. 

Hastening his step, Eddie went inside to drop off his backpack and sign himself out. He had a bit of an inkling something like this might happen considering how he’d left things—although he could hardly blame himself for it. In his thoroughly depleted state following three days of hell, it was a wonder he hadn’t slapped Richie and shoved him right back out the window. He probably would have if he hadn’t been so affected by his kissing.

On his way out, he found Ben on the front steps, looking like he was waiting for someone. He glanced up to sweep the incoming traffic a couple of times while leafing through a textbook, his backpack heavy at his feet. His hair was gelled again. 

Eddie hadn’t talked to him in a while, so he stopped for a quick chat.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked once they’ve exchanged greetings. “Class starts soon.”

“I’m waiting for Bev, I left my notebook at her place the other day,” Ben said, shutting his textbook. “What about you? Where you off to?”

“I’m just looking for Richie. Have you seen him?” It wasn’t very likely since his car was missing, but what the hell. 

“Richie?” Ben looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm… actually, I don’t think I’ve seen him since Saturday. He didn’t show up for class yesterday, I should give him a—”

“Wait, what?” Eddie backtracked, interrupting him. “Saturday? You saw him on Saturday?”

“Well, Bev and I were supposed to see a movie with him but he didn’t end up staying for it. When I got there, he said he wasn’t in the mood for it and left. It was kind of weird, but he hasn’t been himself much lately…”

Eddie stared at him agape, a rising alarm in the pit of his stomach. He had to be misunderstanding something. “… At the mall? This past Saturday?”

“Yeah… weren’t you there, too? Bev told me they spotted you while waiting for me, sorry I didn’t get to say hi—I was running late.” Ben paused to eye him with some concern. “Are you okay, by the way? I heard you were in the hospital.”

Eddie’s mouth was so dry he could hardly utter a word in response. He tried to swallow but couldn’t even manage that. His heart seemed to be racing against itself—every beat faster, stronger, almost battering in its force. 

How was this possible? How could he have been so fucking wrong?

He scanned over the memory again and again, almost trying to find some fault with what Ben was saying because he’d been so damn sure, so set on it being the truth, but there was nothing—nothing at all to disprove it. There were only shadows, dark outlines, anger and bitterness, and Richie’s earnest face when he’d said the words that should have told Eddie everything he needed to know…

_I’ve only ever kissed one person in my life._

Sharp regret spread through his veins like poison, flooding every pore in his body. Eddie clutched at his chest as he struggled for breath, eyes fixed in the direction of Richie’s house.

Jesus. This changed everything. _Everything_.

“Eddie, what—”

“You and Bev,” slipped out of Eddie’s mouth as all the pieces finally clicked into place for him. All the furtive looks and smiles they exchanged, all the times she mentioned Ben, the lunches they missed out on together—all those little hints Eddie had chosen to pointedly ignore in favour of his own stupid jealousy. It seemed so fucking obvious now. “You’re together, aren’t you?”

Ben nodded after some hesitation. “For a few years now. We’ve been trying to keep it private—didn’t want to make things awkward for anyone, you know? But… it’s getting out, I guess. Bill and Richie have known for a while.”

Eddie’s lungs gave out completely, crushed under the weight of his shattering reality. If Beverly was with Ben, there was no way… no way at all she would be doing anything with—

_Deep breaths, Eddie. Deep breaths. It’s all in your head._

He was such a fucking idiot.

“Eddie—”

“I gotta go.”

Without another moment’s wait, he flew down the steps, taking off at speed towards the Barrens. All of a sudden, he desperately, urgently needed to know— 

—what had Richie carved on the Kissing Bridge all those years ago?

~

It didn’t take long for him to find it. 

He’d expected it to—because the Bridge was nearly fully carved from all the years it had been there. However, it only took him minutes to filter through everything to finally spot the most obviously appropriate script that could only, possibly ever belong to Richie’s hand because of the funny little squiggles he liked to attach to his capital letters. 

They had been clearly carved over many times, the lines turned thick and crooked.

_R + E_

Eddie stared at it for a long time, the two scribbled letters bringing everything into sharp focus. The realization he’d been wrong all along—about everything—was both wrenching and exhilarating at the same time. 

Suddenly everything made so much sense. How could he have been so blind?

He’d wasted so much time on worrying about all the wrong things, insignificant things that hardly seemed to matter now—he’d stupidly missed the most obvious truth of all. 

Richie loved him. Always had. 

From day one, Richie had never left his side. Despite the hardships, despite all the obstacles that had come up between them over the years, Richie had never given up on him—not once. Time and time again, he was there to brighten his days with his lively chatter, to annoy him with his dumb jokes, to ground him in reality whenever Eddie got too wrapped up in his own head, to provide his comforting steadfast presence that never questioned, never judged, never expected anything—only loved and accepted. In Richie’s own unique Trashmouth way. 

Every damn time. Unconditionally. Without fail. 

And all that Eddie had to do in return was to trust him. Trust that Richie would never do anything to hurt him—that he wasn’t just playing some stupid games with him. Trust that Richie did the things he did out of love for him and not out of jest or some misplaced sense of chivalry.

Instead he’d pushed him away, threw hurtful words at him, caused them both so much unnecessary pain while being caught up in his own convoluted web of emotions, his own wounded ego. He had been so horrible to Richie—for nothing.

_Fuck_. What had he done?

Overcome with a powerful sense of dread, Eddie bolted. 

~

By the time he ran up to Richie’s house, all of his breath had gone out of him. 

He couldn’t even get himself to wait for it to be caught up before ringing the doorbell, hoping to God that Richie was still willing to talk to him—that he wasn’t too late. Knowing how wrong he’d been had sparked such a visceral fear in him, it was twisting his insides.

When the door finally opened, Eddie barely recognized the person that was standing there. 

Richie’s sweat pants and t-shirt were rumpled, but he clearly hadn’t slept. His skin was ghostly pale, his tumbled curls a mess, and his eyes were… hooded, drawn. Tense. Completely devoid of their usual mischievous brilliance. Eddie felt his throat tighten upon the realization Richie had been crying. 

Upon seeing him, the muscle in Richie’s jaw twitched. Averting his eyes to a distant point down the street, he slid his hands into his pockets and slouched against the door frame, his movements weary and languid. He looked utterly exhausted. 

“If you were hoping to catch Bev here, you’re too late,” he drawled, voice dry and hoarse. “Our nightly sex marathons only run till 5 AM.”

Eddie’s chest grew cold. The complete lack of emotion in Richie’s demeanor was far more harrowing than the jibe. “I know you’re not with her,” he said quietly, subdued by his fear. “I bumped into Ben at school.”

“Ah… So you’re here to ease your guilty conscience. Wrong house for that, I’m afraid—the church’s just down the street.”

Eddie stiffened. For once, not out of anger. “… I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Shocking.”

Eddie exhaled shakily. “I didn’t know she was with him, okay? Nobody fucking told me—including you. I didn’t know you were waiting for him at the theater. I guess… it was someone else I saw inside.”

“Huh… no shit. So I’m in the clear. Good to know.”

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry, okay? I was wrong.”

Richie hummed wryly. “I’ll make sure to commemorate that. That’s one for the records.”

Normally, at a point like this Eddie would have said ‘Fuck you’ and stormed off, but he had no inclination to do so. Not this time. He fully deserved this. “Look… can you just let me in? I feel weird standing here.”

Richie made an appearance of considering it. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Eddie said nothing for a while. He stood rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. Richie was angry with him. He was really fucking angry with him—and for good reason. Eddie wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if he’d slammed the door in his face as soon as he saw who it was. Richie certainly didn’t have to stand there and talk to him, but he was. He was still there.

Finding some encouragement in the thought, Eddie forced a quiet “Please” past his lips, casting his eyes down. It felt so damn weird to be pleading with Richie for a change.

Just as he’d started feeling sure he was going to get a door slam after all, Richie pushed off the doorframe and went inside, leaving it open. Hesitating only a moment, Eddie followed him in, shutting it quietly behind him. 

As he stood awkwardly across from Richie in the foyer, he bit at his lip, keeping his eyes plastered to the patterned rug below. His hands felt clammy and cold. Richie was so different from the previous night, so distant. It scared Eddie so much. Terrified him, really.

What if he was too late, after all?

“You’re missing class,” Richie said at last, turning to lean back against the wall, his hands still deep in his pockets. “You’ve got some midterms tomorrow, don’t you?”

“So do you,” Eddie mumbled, not really knowing what else to say except to keep the conversation going. “Why aren’t you at school?”

“I’m not going back.”

Thrown by the unexpected statement, Eddie snapped his head up to look at his profile. “… Why?”

“You really shouldn’t be missing class for this.”

“Tell me why,” Eddie insisted.

Richie was silent for a while, eyes fixed on the wall opposite from him. He hadn’t looked at Eddie once since he saw him at the door. “I only went to high school because of you. I don’t really give a shit about graduating—I can do without.”

Eddie felt his mouth part in surprise. He’d always known Richie didn’t care about it any more than he did, but he’d always assumed Richie just went with the flow. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that Richie did it just so he could be around him. And now… Richie was quitting because of him. He swallowed hard. “Richie, you have to go back… you have to finish it. We’re a just couple of months away from the end.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Richie sighed forcefully. He looked angry again. “… Do I really have to say it? I can’t be around you anymore. It hurts too much.” A wry smile twisted his features. “Guess you got your wish in the end. You should be happy—you won’t have to worry about avoiding me anymore.”

It hurt to hear. Eddie knew he deserved it, but it hurt anyway. The words only made the fear gnawing at his insides worsen, inviting panic to set in. It descended upon him swiftly, like a blow. A pick-up in his heartrate, a rush in his lungs. His head felt light; his fingertips numb. All of a sudden, he felt wretchedly sick.

He was too late—he’d driven Richie away for good. He was too fucking late.

“I saw what you carved on the Bridge,” he said, barely able to contain the tremor in his voice. He knew what he had to do—it was his last avenue. He just didn’t know how. He’d never bared his soul to anyone, least of all Richie.

“Quite the trip for mere curiosity. Sorry it wasn’t something more entertaining.”

Eddie struggled to keep breathing. “… Can you please stop talking like that?”

“Whoa, you’re so nice today. Please and everything?” Richie affected mild astonishment. “Fuck, I should have confessed ages ago.”

Eddie felt something snap inside of him. He lowered his head, fisted hands shaking at his sides. 

“You… you don’t have to try so hard to make me feel like shit, you know,” he said, voice rising with poorly concealed emotion. “Because I already do. You think I don’t know how screwed up I am? I do—I fucking know it, alright? I’ve been living with myself for years and it’s not easy. And I know how badly I fucked up. I shouldn’t have pushed you away—I shouldn’t have said all those things… I know it now. But I was—” he wavered, licking his dry lips, “I was really jealous, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I admit it… I was so stupidly jealous I couldn’t even think straight. And I fucking hate myself for it—for every time that I hurt you. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore.”

Richie’s silence was awful. Eddie’s heart was being shredded by it. He dug his nails into his palms painfully, fighting the moisture distorting his vision. 

“Last night…” he started again, “you said you loved me. And I… I—” Say it. Just say it. “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he choked out instead. His voice sounded miserable and broken even to his own ears. “I came here to ask you to forgive me. But if you can’t—if you don’t want this anymore, I’ll understand. I will. Just tell me to leave and I’ll be gone.” 

Don’t cry, he hissed bitterly at himself. Don’t you fucking cry.

It was just—it was hard. So hard. 

Never had he felt more exposed. Never had he revealed such a vulnerable front, such depth of emotion to Richie—or allowed so much weakness to show on his face. He felt bare. Stripped naked. It took everything out of him just to resist the impulse to turn on his heel and make a run for it.

Sensing Richie approaching him, Eddie didn’t dare raise his eyes, scared of what he might find in Richie’s face. He could only tremble uncontrollably when he invaded his space. He wanted to say the words he needed to say. _Desperately_. They were bubbling at the very surface, bursting to come out. But his throat only tightened painfully each time he tried to push them out. Why was it so fucking hard to say them?

“I—I won’t run away anymore,” he finally said, words tumbling out in a fluster. “If… if you still want me.”

They stood like that for what seemed like forever but couldn’t have been more than a few moments. When Richie’s hand came up to rest on his cheek, thumb moving across his cheekbone in a feather-light caress, Eddie finally turned his head up. 

“Eds…” Richie murmured, all traces of mockery gone. “I will always want you.” 

The devotion in Richie’s warm, softened eyes was undeniable. Faithful to a fault. Absolute. How could Eddie have missed the obvious emotion that underlined it all of these years? Richie looked at him like he couldn’t see anything else, like Eddie meant the world to him, like everything else around them disappeared. He always had. 

He’d been so fucking blind.

In that instant, all veils between them were lifted and the fears, the doubts, the pretenses crumbled away, unmasking the simple, irrefutable truth. Eddie couldn’t imagine a world without Richie any more than Richie could imagine a world without Eddie.

When Richie leaned in this time, Eddie met him halfway. Their lips slid together like they’d never done anything else, perfectly fitted for each other. 

Their kiss started off slowly, almost tentatively—a moist brush of lips, followed by another and another until their breath quickened, their mouths grew hungry, and their bodies naturally migrated towards one another. As they drew closer, Eddie felt strong arms pull him in and before he became aware of his own, they were around Richie’s neck, sealing the tiny space between them. 

The feeling of pure high, the exhilaration of being this close to Richie felt so… complete. Like it couldn’t possibly be any other way. 

Richie’s mouth on him quickly became assertive, intent… laced with unrestrained passion. Eddie readily parted his lips to him, matching his eagerness at deepening the kiss. Richie’s arms held him so tightly, Eddie felt suffocated by his embrace. He gave himself up to it entirely—body and soul, for once relinquishing all control to him. 

Before long, Richie started to grind against him, making Eddie’s body come alive like never before, rousing a desperate need deep inside of him. Acting purely on instinct, he found himself responding to it, drawing soft needy moans from Richie’s throat that further ignited the burning flame low in his belly. He had no idea what the hell he was doing but he needed to feel Richie closer. Much closer. He craved it so fucking much it was making him crazy. His entire body was screaming for it. 

When Richie parted from him, eyes dark and intense, they were both out of breath and Richie’s flushed cheeks looked far healthier than Eddie had seen them in weeks. 

“Come upstairs,” he said, voice trembling and hot against Eddie’s lips. “Please…”

Eddie hesitated to respond, a very small voice in the back of his head protesting weakly. After a few beats, he shut it out, unable to resist his own need. At his quick nod, Richie’s eyes grew darker still. He kissed him again before grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs after Eddie kicked off his shoes, their movements rushed and clumsy. 

When they stumbled together into his bedroom, Richie kicked the door shut and invaded his space again, steering him backwards to the bed. They nearly tripped over the mess on the floor on the way there, but Eddie didn’t care, fully immersed in the rush of sensations crawling across his body.

Pushed down into the unmade bed, he found himself pinned under Richie’s weight, his hands captured and pressed up into the sheets as Richie assailed his mouth again, interlacing their fingers tightly. Richie’s claim on him was so hungry, so wildly possessive—it was as though he wanted to meld with him whole. It felt so fucking good to let him take charge, Eddie was dizzy with it. His heart was beating a mile a second, nearly punching a hole through his chest. 

When Richie resumed a rhythmic movement against him that rapidly gained momentum as seconds ticked by, Eddie turned his cheek into the pillow, the flush in his face deepening to a sweltering burn. It was all happening so quickly, he could hardly process what was going on.

This was Richie. Richie fucking Tozier. The Trashmouth. A guy. 

The enormity of it all was overwhelming him. It was both embarrassing and incredibly arousing. Frightening and thrilling at the same time. 

And he wanted it. God… he wanted this _so badly_. 

The hard friction, the steady thrusts against him, Richie’s hot lips along his neck felt so fucking good… so fucking good. It was driving him straight into oblivion… a feverishly delirious state. Nothing and no one had ever made him feel this good. He never wanted it to stop. He needed that completion with Richie like he needed the thundering beat in his heart, the blood boiling in his veins. 

“Richie…” he moaned, arching up into the lean, hard body on top of him, shivering in pleasure every time their erections connected just right. He wanted more, so much more. He turned his face just as Richie sought him out and they were kissing again, their mouths yearning for each other, their matching passions drastically fueling the fire between them. 

Before long, the slide of Richie’s hips against him grew frantic and urgent. Richie broke away from his lips and buried his face into his neck, his ragged breath coming in quick, noisy spurts against Eddie’s skin, his curls tumbling in a vanilla-scented mess over the side of Eddie’s face. His fingers clenched around Eddie’s like he was going to crush them.

“Eddie…” he breathed, voice raspy. “Fuck, Eddie…”

It was all too much. Eddie couldn’t hold back. 

The wave of pleasure struck high and crashed against the hard shore of his consciousness, his quivering body straining, riding it out—and finally releasing all of the tension that had built up inside of him in a surge of blinding-hot euphoria. He clenched his teeth against the powerful moan that was fighting to come out, groaning low in his throat until the sensation curbed and dissipated into a series of jolting shivers down every nerve pathway, mind blissfully empty.

A moment later, Richie’s erratic breath hitched and his body tensed, his drawn-out moan torrid and desperate and so fucking hot it set Eddie’s cheeks ablaze to know he was the one that made Richie feel that good. Richie shuddered in his release before going limp on top of him, the strain in his body ebbing away, his grip on him slackening. 

They lay quietly for a while as they worked at catching their breaths together, shivering against one another in the aftermath. 

As the high finally subsided, awkwardness slowly set it. 

“You’re getting heavy,” Eddie said at last, feeling just a little mortified at the cooling, uncomfortable sensation in his pants. He shifted his weight for emphasis, pushing at Richie lightly.

Richie lifted his head to glance at him before dropping off to the side. The flicker of worry in his face didn’t pass Eddie’s notice. “Eds…”

Eddie quickly rolled himself to the other side, too embarrassed to meet his eye. He was still stunned by it all, still floating in the aftereffects of his climax—that exquisite moment when the world shattered into a thousand pieces and all he could think of was Richie, Richie, _Richie_ … 

… and God, it felt so fucking good. So _right_.

When the silence that followed stretched out a little too long, he raised himself to sit at the edge of the bed, worrying at his lip. He knew Richie was waiting for him to say something, but he had no idea what he was supposed to say. Or do. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

After a bit, he felt Richie’s fingers brush down his arm. “Eddie,” came another nervous whisper from behind him. “Are you okay?”

Eddie hesitated, unsure of it himself. After eight years of friendship, it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to absorb, but at the same time… being with Richie like this felt as natural as the air flowing through his lungs. It was almost frightening how readily he was willing to accept it, to dive right into it. “I think so,” he finally muttered under his breath. 

“I’m sorry if that was… too fast. I couldn’t—”

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie interjected quickly because he didn’t want Richie to misunderstand. He’d wanted it just as much. “I’m just... I don’t know. Feels weird, I guess.”

Hearing the bed creak under Richie’s rising weight, he tensed a little, not sure what to expect. He felt Richie press into him from behind, arms snaking around the front of his waist, his soft cheek rubbing up along the curve of Eddie’s neck. Richie whispered his name softly, reverently like he was trying to reassure him. 

Eddie forced himself to relax.

Despite the lingering awkwardness, all he wanted to do was get back into bed with him and lose himself in everything that was Richie for the rest of the day. Maybe forever. But with his mind fully functioning… things just didn’t seem that easy.

Prompted to glance at the clock on the desk, he was about to tell him they should really get cleaned up and get back to school (agonizing slightly over the first part) when his eyes fell on a bunch of colourful papers sitting beside it, sprinkled over with some very familiar-looking figurines.

Eddie did a double-take, disengaging himself from Richie’s hold to weave through the mess of clothes strewn all over the floor so he could take a closer look. Most of them appeared to be in an unfinished state, but there was no mistaking it. This was…

He turned sharply to frown at Richie, infused with a shot of suspicion that permeated his mind, clouding over all else. If Beverly was making these here, then—

“You knew about this.” It wasn’t a question. 

The odd look on Richie’s face paired with his evasive silence only served to annoy him further. He pressed on. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Richie slid his feet down to the floor, scooting himself up to the edge. He was looking at him warily, almost nervously. “Are you mad?”

“Yes, I’m fucking mad,” Eddie said, his manner waspish. He didn’t want to get angry, it felt wrong to get angry now of all times, but… “I just don’t understand why you had to sneak around with it like that. Both of you.”

“… Both of us? You mean Bev?”

“Yes, Bev. Who else?”

“How’d you know—”

“Cause I checked up on it, okay?” Eddie cut him off, not even caring that he was exposing himself at this point. “I know she has the book.” 

Richie looked taken aback. “Oh. That’s… a surprise. So wait, you must think—” He trailed off with a groan, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Shit… well, that explains some things. Totally my fault, frigging stupid of me, really… I just didn’t think you’d even care. I mean, of course I was hoping you’d like them and all—hell, maybe even keep them, but I didn’t think you’d be interested enough to go checking up on it.”

Eddie’s frown deepened in confusion. “What the hell are you on about?”

Richie sighed. “You think it was Bev who made them, don’t you.”

“I know it was Bev.”

Richie’s face was an odd mix of guilt and mild exasperation. “Eddie… why would Bev even do that?”

“You tell me, asshole,” Eddie shot back, allowing anger to seep in. It was almost comforting to revert to it because anger was fucking _easy_ compared to the maelstrom of emotion that was swirling just underneath it. “Why the hell would she do that?”

“I honestly can’t believe you right now. Why can’t you just ask for once instead of assuming the worst? She wasn’t the one, okay? It wasn’t her.”

“Then who—” Eddie started saying just before it hit him. 

“… Me. It was me,” Richie finished for him. At his astonished silence, Richie’s eyes softened. “I was going to tell you eventually. I guess I kind of hoped you’d figure it out once I put one in your locker—which I almost did that day after the Barrens. But then when I saw… well, I got a lil’ pissed and things didn’t work out the way I planned it.”

“You…?” Eddie said in disbelief because he would have never guessed it in a million years—it was so unlike Richie to do such a thing. Wasn’t he the one that laughed at Ben’s notes all those years ago?

Richie’s cheeks were tinged red. “It was Bev’s idea—she was just trying to help, and… well, she did get the book for me and kind of helped me with some parts, got me this paper and stuff—” he gestured at it loosely, “—but… yeah, I’m the one who made them.”

Jesus. It fucking fit, didn’t it? It certainly made a lot more sense now. And Bill… shit, Bill had figured it out. He’d tried to tell him. Eddie was just too damn stupid to decipher his cryptic words at the time. 

“But… why?” Eddie asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I didn’t know what else to do, I guess,” Richie said with a small shrug. “I was too scared to tell you how I felt and I tried to get your attention every other way—well, short of clubbing you in the head and dragging you into my bed by your hair.” He gave a nervous chuckle, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Which… now that I think about it, would have been a hell of a lot easier. Damn.”

Eddie was far from amused. Feeling like absolute shit, he dropped his head, staring at something littering the floor. 

All that time he thought Beverly was taking Richie away from him when in fact… she was doing the exact opposite. She was just being a good friend, just like Richie had told him at the Barrens. And she was there for Richie when Eddie was not, when he was far too busy being the one that hurt Richie in the first place. 

And through it all… Richie still loved him, still did this kind of stuff for him.

In the grips of rising panic, he stumbled back against the edge of the desk, clutching at it with his hands in a feeble attempt to find some stability, to anchor himself in this new reality while his mind worked against him, wrapping layers upon layers of doubt around it.

He didn’t deserve any of this—didn’t deserve Richie’s love. He’d done nothing to earn it. All he’d managed to do so far was cause him pain. He almost got really angry with him again over nothing, and Richie was right—he always jumped to assume the worst. He didn’t know how to ask, didn’t know how to be nice. He could only fall back on anger. He didn’t know if he could stop. He felt terrified of hurting him again, terrified of getting hurt himself. He had no idea what he was doing. He wasn’t any good at this. He was bound to screw something up again and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Richie—now more than ever. How was this even going to work?

It was all so disorienting, so new… so frightening. 

And he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t fucking handle it.

“Hey…” Richie’s soothing tone broke through to him, and Eddie realized he’d walked over to him. Richie’s hand at his neck was warm and steadying. “Eddie, look at me. You’re getting lost in your head again.”

“I—I don’t know if I can do this,” Eddie stammered in-between rapid, shallow breaths, and he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it, but he was so fucking scared it was coming out of him anyway. “I can’t do this, I can’t—”

Richie’s hand on him tensed. “Hey… hey, listen to me,” he said and his voice had hardened with some strong emotion that easily reflected Eddie’s own. Richie was just as scared as he was. “I know this isn’t easy for you, alright? It isn’t easy for me, either. It will take time, but you can’t keep doing this, you can’t pull back like this every time you get scared or angry or some shit happens. You told me you won’t run away anymore, didn’t you? … Didn’t you?”

At Eddie’s distressed silence, Richie sighed and murmured a quiet “Come here,” pulling him into his chest and weaving his arms around him.

Eddie’s eyes fell closed as he intuitively pressed into it like he had done so many times before, many years ago. Within seconds, the tight knot in his chest eased considerably and he was able to breathe again, relaxing into the familiar deep-rooted security of being in Richie’s arms. In their early years, Richie would always hold him like this whenever his anxiety took over and started choking him, when he felt the world was collapsing in on him and his lungs locked up and he thought he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

It was so good to be this close to him again… so good. He’d missed it so damn much. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled over and over again, clinging onto Richie like he was his lifeline, his grip on reality, his solid foundation. He was so tired of thinking, of questioning everything, of picking life apart just so he could put it back together like the shards of a broken mirror. He just wanted to be with Richie, just like this. He never wanted to let go. 

The arms around him understood, held him tighter, cocooned him in a safe, comfortable warmth that felt like home, and Richie’s soft voice floated over to him, whispering endless words of love that silenced his mind, cast out all of his fears. 

Stirred by a desperate need to be with him, Eddie lifted his face in a silent plea, and Richie readily responded, leaning into him and pressing into his waiting lips. When they kissed, everything else seemed to disappear. All Eddie could do was melt into Richie’s embrace, drown in the depth of his love for him. Think of nothing else. 

It was like a drug to him. A drug he was quickly, incurably becoming addicted to.

Their kiss quickly grew eager and intense, the slide of their tongues drawing a series of heated noises from their throats, spurring Eddie to edge in closer, craving more contact. He froze up when Richie abruptly turned his face away, thinking he’d done something wrong, but Richie didn’t look upset. He was clearly in the same state as Eddie, tense and flushed with need. 

Richie exhaled a slow, shaky breath before speaking.

“Look, um,” he said quickly, licking over his lips in a nervous gesture. “Maybe… I rushed things some. I don’t want to mess things up, I—I can’t lose you again. Maybe we should… slow down a bit.”

“No,” fell out of Eddie’s mouth before he could even think about it. Driven by a fleeting burst of panic, he grasped at Richie’s t-shirt, pulling him back in. “No, I don’t want to slow down, I want this… I—I want you.” 

The words tasted strange and foreign on his tongue as they were words he’d never spoken out loud, not to anyone, but he didn’t care. He needed this, needed to restore that deep connection between them. 

Richie’s eyes glazed over in response, his long eyelashes lowering. “Eds…”

The room grew silent as they navigated back to bed in each other’s arms, lips sealed together. Their soft moans and the rustling of sheets were the only noises disturbing the silence for some time after. 

They never did make it back to school that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I will be re-posting each chapter every few days.


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